View from the Floating Bridge
by Akauzu-kun
Summary: UPDATED! Attempting to continue an old story... ;; Sai reminisces at the match between Touya and Hikaru.
1. Fuji no uraba

View From the Floating Bridge  
  
by Akauzu-kun, jrock fic writer in exile Touya Akira + Shindou Hikaru, Touya Kouyo + Fujiwara no Sai pairings...  
  
SPOILERS FOR TANKOUBAN 15!!!! Okay... anyway... I wondered, "What happens to Sai?" and wrote this~. I expect it to be contradicted, and terribly, by whatever happens in the manga... So let's just say that I'm taking a completely different route after Chapter 124 or so...  
  
Hehe, I think this story may require some notes... I'm referring a bit to "The Tale of Genji" which was written about a thousand years ago by a woman known as Lady Murasaki. Although her real name is unknown, she was a member of the Fujiwara clan and therefore a relation of Sai. I never paid attention to the Hikago timeline, but let's just say that he saw some of it before he died. ^^;; Now everyone go and read some Japanese literature! Yes! Yukio Mishima and Haruki Murakami are also very cool! (ahh, my sensei is turning me into such a weirdo... many thanks to her for historical things.)  
  
  
  
Chapter One: Fuji no Uraba - New Wisteria Leaves  
  
"Is the room comfortable?" Nurse Kurumae didn't really expect a response. In the two weeks he had resided at the small mental hospital outside Kyoto, he had scarcely said more than "good morning" and "thank you." If not for those words, they might have blieved him mute. He was polite and smiled easily, but there was a disconcerting sadness to the one- sided dialogues with him. Nurse Kurumae sighed and went about her duties. She partitioned a small dose of anti-anxiety pills into a cup and filled another with water, wondering if pills could really help the strange patient.  
  
It had been three weeks, or perhaps a month ago, when something other than fish or garbage had been pulled out of the Kamo river - a man, half- drowned but still clinging to life. The occasional suicide case was a reality that disturbed many, but this was somehow different. The man was dressed like an actor out of a Noh play, or perhaps like a monk; not even the most traditional Japanese would wear clothing like that anymore. Certainly a man assumed to be in his mid to late twenties would not wear such a thing. Stranger still was that he remembered nothing before waking up in a Kyoto hospital, not even his name.  
  
Naturally there had been a local TV spot, something begging the family to come forth. Then the speculations of attempted murder - with the economy in such a sorry state, it was a little bit of excitement. But given the only witness's lack of testimony, it took only a few days for the mysterious suicide to be forgotten, at least by the public. Like so many, he ended up the slightly run-down institution where Kurumae Yasuko worked long hours to make ends meet for her family. She was in her thirties, married with two children and really couldn't afford to hope for a better job.  
  
"Emiko is sick again, but it's just a cold so she should be back in school by tomorrow." The room was so silent that Nurse Kurumae would discuss her family or local news with the mystery patient. He rarely, if ever made a response, but his expression of earnest interest made it easy to go on chatting to herself. "My older son, Shinya, is doing terribly in English but a private tutor would be too expensive..." The nurse had long since finished preparing the patient's medicine and tidying the already neat room, but since his was the last room on her circuit she had a few extra minutes. It was a little embarrassing, though, to talk to him - it was as if he were completely empty and somehow the little stories of her home life filled him. That and his only other interest - reading novels from the hospital's small library.  
  
"Ah, did you enjoy the last book, sir?" The book in question lay face down on the bedside table, so she picked it up. "The Tale of Genji? I read this when I was younger. 'Hikaru Genji', right? Ah, I'm afraid I don't remember much..."  
  
"Hikaru... but...it's different." Nurse Kurumae was a little startled - both that the patient had finally spoken something more than empty pleasantries, and that the word for "different" was also the word for "wrong." Were his first words only to correct her? She gave a nervous smile.  
  
"Have I messed up the names again? That's the only thingwith that story - I kept losing track of the names. It's not the 'Shining Genji', then?" The patient was suddenly embarrassed, covering his mouth shyly. Nurse Kurumae had often been surprised by his very feminine appearance and enviously long, straight hair. He could have passed for a girl had he not been so tall.  
  
"No, no, I meant that the words are different. They've changed since... I've seen this story before." The patient's face wrinkled in consternation. "But the writing has changed - it's more simple now, but then it was poetry... ah, what am I saying?" The nurse was both confused and overjoyed.  
  
"Sir, is it possible that your memory is coming back?"  
  
"I..." He trailed off helplessly. Nurse Kurumae's fingertips traced the cover of the book absently. "I don't know who I am, but this book seemed familiar." The nurse could scarcely contain her smile; this was more than the patient had ever spoken.  
  
"Murasaki."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"No one knows your name, and no one knows the real name of the person who wrote this novel. So we call her 'Lady Murasaki'" Kurumae laughed softly. "You've been here long enough that we should call you something better than 'guest.' Is it alright?" He made that thoughtful face again, but it resolved into a smile.'  
  
"Murasaki... is a good name."  
  
  
  
And here's the useful Japanese section! -__-;; From someone who writes fanfics during Japanese class!  
  
Fuji no Uraba - "New Wisteria Leaves", the title of chapter 33 in "The Tale of Genji" Hikaru - shining, bright. It's added to Genji's name because he was a real bishounen... ^^;; Fuji - wisteria (the wara bit means swamp or barrow or something like that) Murasaki - purple (color) Wisterias are purple, too. chigau - is different, is wrong. I think Sai would say "chigaimasu" to be polite. Genji - It's a different way of naming the Minamoto clan. In the novel, the emperor disowns his son into the Minamoto (Genji) clan, so Genji spends much of the novel trying to work his way up the ranks. Kamo River - It's near Kyoto... I think... ^^;; Geography is not my strong point... 


	2. Koubai

Chapter Two: Koubai - Red Plum Blossoms  
  
"Akira?"  
  
"Did someone call me?" Akira had distantly heard the sound of the telephone from his room, where he had been putting on his clothing. The tie would just not lie flat...  
  
"Not exactly... it was your mother. She recently talked to the principal of your school."  
  
"My grades are fine," defended Akira. "I make up any work that I miss during tournaments, and my teachers said..."  
  
"No, no, it's not that." Touya Kouyo sat down in one of the plain kitchen chairs, gesturing for Akira to also sit. "You know how your mother is." He smiled, a rare sight for the grim-faced former professional whose stony demeanor was as legendary as his amazing skill. "She worries about you.. so does the school. It's not your grades. If anything, you keep remarkably good marks for someone who misses so much school."  
  
"Then... what is it?" Akira was fully aware that his life was somewhat abnormal. Being a fourteen-year-old professional Go player was really only the start of it. Having Touya Kouyo, the one-time holder of 5 prestigious Go titles who recent retirement was the subject of media controversy, for a father only added to his problems.  
  
Touya Kouyo knew he wasn't much of a father. Outside of playing Go, there was really nothing that he knew of to do with his strange, silent son. So, he threw all of his passion for playing into grooming his son into the competent pro-level player that he was today. He wondered, though, if that was enough for Akira. It hadn't been enough for Akiko... There were no harsh feelings between him and his more-or-less estranged wife. If anything, they remained close in the rearing of their son, although Akiko had been sharing a flat with her older sister for the past three years. "I know I'm second in your heart, Kouyo" was all the explanation she ever gave for leaving. When he reassured her that there was no other woman, she said she would have been relieved if it was only another woman. Women have ways of competing against each other. Against that all-encompassing game that some thought of as a pastime, others a lifestyle; they both knew that she had lost. Like in Go, it was better to resign than to fight a bitter, losing battle to the end. Akira was the remainder, always shuffled back and forth like something no one wanted.  
  
"People are concerned about you. You never show any interest in people your own age. If you backed off from a few teaching engagements, no one would fault you - you're a young boy, not an old man like your father." Akira's face was blank and his mouth set in a hard line, the very picture of his father.  
  
"I'm... content. The pros are more than enough, I don't need people my own age..."  
  
"Akira!" interjected the Meijin sharply.  
  
"I mean what I said, father..."  
  
"I know you do." Akira's mask faltered a little in surprise. "But I also know how I felt when I was your age. It's a lonely world, this life, with only old men and the ghosts of past masters living in it. Sooner or later the loneliness works its way in until it becomes a part of you, and destroys a part of you. You know... your mother and I... we did love each other, but there was always something between us." Touya Kouyo sighed. Akira light tapped his fingertips against the table in consternation.  
  
"I... I don't need anyone else," he muttered irritably.  
  
"Akira... in the end, Go is only a game. There are more important things." The former Meijin began to walk back to the other end of the house, thinking to do a bit of reading. Akira scowled at the tabletop as if all of his uncertainties lie within the wood grain to be stamped out by the fingertips pressing hard into it. "And by the way, Akira - that Shindou boy called. There's some kind of cultural festival going on at the shrine near his school, and he wondered if you would want to help out. You should go."  
  
"But Father..." began Akira, stalling. "We always play a game in the mornings."  
  
"If you go, I'll record it as a win." Akira stared morosely out the window. At least he could make the best out of a bad situation.  
  
  
  
Useful Japanese section!  
  
Koubai - "Red Plum Blossoms" is the title of chapter 43 from "The Tale of Genji" Meijin - It's one of Akira's dad's many titles, for winning the Meijin tournament. You probably know that... but sometimes people think it's his given name! His real given name is Kouyo. 


	3. Hana no En

Chapter Three: Hana no En - Under the Flowers  
  
"As if Ochi would come! Can you imagine that prissy little whiner working the takoyaki stand?!" Waya laughed heartily, going on to complain about Isumi's absence as well. "If Isumi were here, he's almost old enough to buy me sake..." The older former Insei, however, had gone to China and had little contact with any of his friends. Waya defended Isumi by insisting that international phone calls were insanely expensive, but it was obvious to anyone that he missed the other boy terribly. He waved a paper fan irritably against the sticky heat of early August.  
  
Volunteering at the cultural festival was one of Akari's ideas, and a pretty crazy one at that. Waya still hadn't quite gotten the hang of walking in the large, pleated pants and heavy overdress that seemed far too heavy to move in. "Did people really wear all this stuff a thousand years ago?"  
  
"Uhh... I guess so. It's not like they had T-shirts for the summer." Hikaru looked smaller than usual when he was buried in such a heavy costume, but he brushed the sweat from his forehead and aligned the heavy goban on a brightly colored blanket over the stone floor of the shrine.  
  
"That's probably why they're all dead, then!" interjected a familiar voice.  
  
"Kaga!" exclaimed Hikaru. "Is everyone else coming?" The Haze Junior High Go Club banner stretched between two nearby pillars, waving lazily in the slight breeze.  
  
"Uh-huh. Mitani's bringing Akari, so they might end up getting here a little late, if you know what I mean..." Kaga grinned a little too widely. "Even Tsutsui promised to show up, but I'll bet he tries to study. He's always whining about high school... piece of cake, if you ask me. Of course I'm failing..." Kaga looked up and down at Hikaru and barely attempted to stifle his laughter. "Congratulations, Shindou, on becoming a woman." Hikaru's face turned red as he sputtered:  
  
"It's not a DRESS!" Waya was laughing too, even though he was wearing a similar costume. "It's what people - male people! - wore a thousand years ago! It's not a DRESS!" Akari had talked the other members of the club into giving a Go demonstration, and - against Mitani's protestations - convinced Hikaru to at least come. Akari's enthusiasm was infectious, so once Hikaru mentioned the event to Waya he had insisted on coming. Plus, it was extra credit...  
  
Without Sai's help, he really needed the extra credit. He looked over at Waya, shoving a tall hat over his hair and complaining that it flattened his fringe. Maybe it took more than a little stretch of the imagination to see Sai in that, but he couldn't help missing the ghost that had started everything for him. Even so, he was beginning to wonder if it all had been real. He shook his head violently, earning a look from Kaga. Sai would have wanted him to remember their time together as long as he lived, so Hikaru would try.  
  
"Hey, is that who I think it is?" asked Waya, staring off into the small crowd of workers finishing the last of the setup for the festival. Kaga, not seeing anyone he knew, flopped comfortably on the grass.  
  
"If it's somebody you pros can't beat, I'll trash them for you."  
  
"Did Ochi decide to come and get his lily-white hands dirty?" laughed Waya.  
  
"No..." muttered Hikaru. A familiar head of hair so dark that it seemed to suck up as much light as it reflected stuck out of the crowd, at least in his eyes. There was only one person it could be... He quickly looked away and pretended to be absolutely intent on positioning the cups of go stones perfectly next to the goban. Then, the waiting. Waya and Kaga must have taken the time to discreetly walk away, because only Touya Akira's voice shocked Hikaru from his concentration.  
  
"Ah... um... I heard there was a festival and..." Akira trailed off, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself. Hikaru was used to the cool Akira who brushed past him with an icy expression. This Akira... looked a little nervous.  
  
'Ochi,' thought Hikaru, 'I definitely owe you one for giving me Touya's phone number.' He jumped up to greet the newcomer, ignoring Kaga's scrutiny from his seat on the grass.  
  
"Touya-kun! You're just in time!"  
  
"In time for what?"  
  
"In time to put on your costume!" Akira realised for the first time that Hikaru was in a very baggy gown and even baggier pants, like something from a history textbook. "The Go Club is going to give demonstrations, and the school just happened to have these costumes..." Hikaru neglected to mention that not being an official member of the Go Club, he was under no obligation to actually play... it felt wrong to play Go without Sai. Instead he would hand out the cookies Akari had made. Even if he didn't play, at least he could provide a replacement - Touya 2-Dan! "I thought it would be..."  
  
"Fun." Akira wet his lips a little nervously. "It sounds like fun." Hikaru's face lit up with happiness as he pulled a costume from his duffel bag and tossed it to Akira.  
  
"You can just wear this over your regular clothes. It's going to be hot anyway!" Akira smiled weakly. How bad could it possibly be?  
  
It was, after all, a default win.  
  
  
  
Useful Japanese Section!  
  
Hana no En - "Under the Flowers", the title of chapter 8 in "The Tale of Genji" takoyaki - fried octopus bits - really good! Typical Kansai food but they are so tasty that I think they should have them everywhere! Hehe... well I like to buy them from the Korean store. Insei - a young Go student studying to become a professional goban - a Go board 2-Dan - Touya Akira's rank 


	4. For Sai

For Sai...

So lonely am I  

My body is a floating weed  

Severed at the roots.  

Were there water to entice me,  

I would follow it, I think. 

~Ono no Komachi

(Note: This is a "Tanka" poem common in the Heian period.  I don't know when this one was written, though.)


	5. Hatsune

Chapter Four: Hatsune - The First Birdsong of the New Year  
  
"The doctors are happy that you agreed to go to the common room, Murasaki." The man was not paying attention to Nurse Kurumae at all - he stared at bland paintings, or cracks in the tiled floor. Sometimes he was talkative, sometimes not. Perhaps a more meditative person would say that peaceful silence was the only way to absorb the outside world fully, but Nurse Kurumae was not a meditative person. She quickened her pace slightly so Murasaki was forced to keep up with the sharp click-click of her shoes.  
  
"You'd enjoy the common room. There's a large television where some people watch movies, or if you like, there are games to try - cards, chess, Go, things like that. Some of the women do needlepoint." Last night, Nurse Kurumae had apparently set something off in Murasaki - a new excitement.  
  
"People play Go here?" Murasaki had asked, suddenly interested.  
  
"Ahh. some do. Do you know how to play?" At that point Murasaki's expression faltered back into the usual sadness.  
  
"I. I don't know." The nurse smiled brightly, happy for any sign of change.  
  
"This is the common room - would you like to use the television?" Murasaki looked at the black screen tentatively. Nurse Kurumae handed the remote control to him and began to leave, as she has other things to do. Murasaki simply turned it over in his hands. "Don't you know how to use that?" Murasaki shook his head.  
  
It was strange how many gaps there were in Murasaki's mind. He obviously knew how to read, and had on occasion quoted old-fashioned poetry. He seemed to know a little history as well, probably more than the nurse could verify the truth of. But then he didn't seem to understand everyday things like having to plug in lamps to make them work, or the buttons on the remote control. Even normal clothing seemed unfamiliar to him. Curiously, he knew what a computer was, but didn't know what to make of the programs.  
  
"It's like this, you see?" She pushed the "on" button and the large screen flickered to life. "Then you use these to change the station." She then handed the device to Murasaki, who began experimenting with the channel select button. A cooking show, some kind of sports program and a drama all flashed by. He hovered a moment on a commercial for canned drinks and some kind of nature program on fish, but quickly flipped through the dizzying number of programs. Unexpectedly, he dropped the remote to the floor with a plasticky clatter and nearly threw his body at the screen.  
  
"No, no!" he muttered. "Before this one!" His fingertips brushed the face of some idol singer in agitation. Nurse Kurumae retrieved the remote, preparing to lecture the patient on taking better care of hospital property but decided to change the channel instead. The previous show was some kind of board game. It seemed to satisfy Murasaki, though, who watched it with rapt attention.  
  
"That's go, isn't it?" she began, but the patient barely heard her. The faces of the players were not seen, only an aerial view of two gnarled, disembodied hands elegantly placing stones on a grid. A few minutes went by in which nothing at all happened. Murasaki's hand slowly moved towards an empty space on the board. A few moments later, a hand placed a black stone there. Excitement shining on his face, he touched another place on the TV screen. Soon after, white followed his move. This continued for perhaps five minutes until white abruptly rescinded his hand, to Murasaki's disappointment.  
  
"White resigns," came the announcer's voice. The winner is Ogata 10- Dan, who will now advance to the next round of the tournament. Ogata- sensei is favored in the next match, but Kurata 6-Dan has been unexpectedly difficult to beat." The camera then panned though the audience to a female announcer who gave a recap of the game. Nurse Kurumae initially thought that Murasaki was interested in the woman - his face was so close to the screen. However, it seemed to be a member of the audience behind the announcer that caught his attention - a young boy with half-bleached hair engaged in an animated discussion with a black-haired person of the same height. Murasaki's hand lay on the television screen as if touching the cool glass could somehow bring him into the world trapped inside it. When the screen shifted to a colorful advertisement, he sadly allowed his hand to drop.  
  
"Nurse Kurumae?" he asked softly.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I want. to play that game." Nurse Kurumae thought for a few moments, and then went to the supply closet. Perhaps if she could get Murasaki to play a game, she could get back to her rounds faster. It was only a cheap plastic goban, but it would be good enough.  
  
"Akiyoshi-san?" she called. A thin, nervous-looking man, perhaps a few years older than her strange patient, set aside a thick novel and came forth quietly, smiling slightly at Murasaki. "Akiyoshi-san was an Insei, perhaps he can show you how to..." She trailed off, recalling that Murasaki had easily predicted the moves of the TV pros.  
  
"Ahh, it was a long time ago that I was an Insei..." whispered Akiyoshi, shyly. Nurse Kurumae put on her best encouraging face for the other patient. She neglected to tell Murasaki that the pro exams had driven Akiyoshi into the mental hospital almost eight years ago... Oh well. It didn't matter - it was only a game, right? She gathered the stones from the cardboard box and left the patients to their own devices. There was still the matter of old Mrs. Miyaji on the third floor, who believed that all of her food was poisoned... Nurse Kurumae sighed and quickly left the room before something else disturbed her routine.  
  
Perhaps two or three hours later, she returned, thinking that Murasaki might be ready to return to his room. However, neither he nor Akiyoshi were to be found... Finally, she noticed Murasaki anxiously twisting his hair in his hands. The charge nurse, a younger girl called Miki, looked to be in a similar state.  
  
"What's wrong?" asked Nurse Kurumae, frowning.  
  
"That new patient... the one with the long hair... was playing Go with Akiyoshi-san. I wasn't really paying attention until Akiyoshi-san locked himself in the supply closet! He hasn't come out in almost an hour! What do I do?!"  
  
"He'll come out, eventually..." muttered the older nurse, her frown deepening. "What exactly did the new patient do?"  
  
"He trashed Akiyoshi-san!" laughed an old man with crooked teeth, a patient from the second floor. Nurse Kurumae vaguely knew him. "Akiyoshi always beats me, but I've never seen anyone play Go like that long-haired pretty boy. No wonder Aki-kun locked himself up - an eleven and a half moku difference! Unbelievable!" The old man continued laughing until a few other patients joined in a well, making a disjointed chorus. Nurse Kurumae began to wonder if she were the one going insane...  
  
"Quiet!" she shouted, motioning for Murasaki to come with her. She didn't know what a "moku" was, but it sounded serious. But to beat Akiyoshi-san at his own game... could Murasaki be a failed Insei as well, or even a pro? Perhaps it would be easier to discover his identity if he were introduced to other Go players.  
  
She only knew one thing - This "Murasaki" was no ordinary patient.  
  
  
  
Useful Japanese Section!  
  
Hatsune - The first song by the warbler bird, title of chapter 23 in "The Tale of Genji" 


	6. Kagerou

Much thanks to Ritz and Yami no Tenshi and other people who reviewed for pointing out my silly mistakes - hehe, I haven't tried writing a story like this before, where even I don't know what will happen in the next chapter! (It's really a surprise. -_-;;) So if I screw something up, feel free to throw Go stones in my general direction!  
  
So thank you very much! I appreciate all the kind reviews!  
  
Chapter Five: Kagerou - Mayfly  
  
"Welcome home, Hikaru..." If Hikaru heard his mother's voice, he gave no sign of it. Mrs. Shindou frowned as Hikaru practically bounced up to his bedroom. It was the most cheerful she'd seen him in weeks, but... if he wanted dinner he would have to eat it in the dining room, and no exceptions! Even so, her mouth slowly transformed into a small smile. It was good for him to spend time with friends, instead of a bunch of moldy old men at Go salons.  
  
It worried her, though, that he had suddenly given up what had for two years been a hobby that swallowed up everything else. She had almost gotten used to the idea of having a professional Go player for a son, no matter how weird it often felt. But lately... Hikaru had been merely studying halfheartedly for high school entrance exams, as if he didn't really care where he ended up. For whatever reasons, a smile on her son's face was a welcome sight.  
  
And at least he had stopped sitting in his room and talking to himself - he was a little old for imaginary friends, right? And too young to be senile! Mrs. Shindou put Hikaru's dinner in the refrigerator.  
  
Hikaru, one floor up, flopped on his bed and kicked the rumpled sheets on the floor. He had never, ever expected Touya Akira to show up. And he had absolutely never imagined himself to be so damn happy about it. They were rivals, after all, right? They were supposed to hate each other! Instead, Waya had taken over most of the demonstrations at the festival, allowing Hikaru and Akira to walk around. Akira was from another district, so even the most boring details of the shrine grounds were new to him.  
  
"So... uh... how's your dad?" Hikaru had asked, holding up the elaborate costume while tiptoeing on rocks. A small stream crossed one corner of the shrine grounds, terminating at a big metal pipe. But as far as the borders of the shrine, it almost seemed like nature. Hikaru leapt from one precarious rock to another, while Akira stirred the water with a stick, watching fish swim in frenzied circles.  
  
"He's okay. He says it's a lot less stressful, being retired... even his doctor says it's good."  
  
"Oh. Well... uhhh..." Hikaru had reached a point where he could jump no further, balancing on a small rock a few feet from shore. In the costume, it was ridiculous and striking all at once, like something out of an old painting. "Damn, I'm stuck..."  
  
"Turn around and come back the way you got there!"  
  
"Can't - the rocks shifted."  
  
"Then jump, and I can probably catch you." Hikaru's face flushed momentarily, so he looked away. Akira was as unshakably cool as ever.  
  
"What do you mean by 'probably'!" It wasn't as if he had any other choice... He had jumped, and landed more or less on top of Akira, sending them both into the grass. Luckily it had been a dry summer and there was no mud. "Sorry!" exclaimed Hikaru as he rolled away, looking even redder.  
  
Why wasn't Akira angry? Hikaru almost wanted him to be - at least it was easy to think of Touya Akira as just a rival, someone to hate. He pursued Akira simply to beat him. That was all.  
  
The rationalizations sounded stupid, even to him. Without the neutral ground of Go, it was difficult to talk to the other boy. There was no basis for a rivalry, so there was no clean-cut relationship between the two. It was... almost like meeting a different Touya. They had walked back to the Haze Junior High tables, making idle chitchat and brushing grass off their clothing. And that was it. Outwardly simple, but so confusing...  
  
Hikaru fitfully threw a stuffed animal onto the floor. He was still a kid, what did he know about this kind of stuff? There was an adult inside him, too, though. The same grown-up, serious person that seemed to take over when he played was now analyzing as if this were a title match.  
  
The best move, thought Hikaru to himself. It was like Go between pros where both sides concealed their true motives, relying only on an ability to read far into the future of the game to make careful moves that betrayed nothing. Hikaru could not see the conclusion of this game, but... in a good match, the stones surrounded each other. Without that element of contact, there was no game.  
  
He wondered if Akira was busy after school...  
  
Useful Japanese Section!  
  
Kagerou: Mayfly, the title of chapter 52 in "The Tale of Genji." Notice a pattern? I'm just bad at making up titles so I'll borrow Lady Murasaki's!  
  
And as for the stream/storm drain... well, there are things like that where I live and I spent much of my childhood in them. ^^;; 


	7. Akashi

Chapter Six: Akashi  
  
"Ah... Murasaki...san. I wanted to talk..." At once the patient's head bobbed upwards, sending a shower of black hair cascading over his back. Over normal clothing he wore a very simple yukata with the seal of the hospital printed where a family crest would have been. The doctor entered the room, noticing the papers that Murasaki held clutched to his chest. "What are those?" he asked.  
  
"Kifu." The patient had become much more animated recently, or at least whenever Go was mentioned. The doctor had been on his college Go team, so he knew how to read game records. Taking them from Murasaki, he scanned them quickly. The kifu were improvised on hospital stationary instead of the usual form, but seemed to be in order.  
  
"You've won all of these? Against whom?" The play was impressive - an eleven and a half moku win over the former insei, despite playing against the five and a half moku penalty. But it was the shape of the arrangements of stones that convinced the doctor of Murasaki's skill. Such elegance of form, like a true artist...  
  
"Ahhh... Akiyoshi-san, and Ooyama-san from the lunchroom, and Nurse Kimura... the last two were handicap games, though."  
  
"Akiyoshi was an insei." Murasaki looked stricken, twisting the loose ends of his hair into a thick rope.  
  
"I didn't know he would lock himself in the closet! I'm so sorry! I didn't know! Please forgive me!" The doctor merely waited for the long- haired man to finish a string of "gomen nasai."  
  
"Do you think you could win against me?" Murasaki inclined his head slightly, his embarrassment forgotten.  
  
"I don't know. Are you strong?"  
  
"Amateur level, but my college team placed first a few years back." The patient became almost excited. The doctor was more than a little proud of his past success - he was still fairly young, and hadn't been out of school that long.  
  
"Is that so?! But... I don't have a goban, or stones, or anything..."  
  
"I took the liberty of bringing one up. An even game?" Murasaki nodded, his normally childish face taking on a shade of intensity. The doctor set the board on Murasaki's bed, since there wasn't anywhere else big enough. "Nigiri." They decided stone color, with the doctor taking white. For the next hour, there was only the sound of the plastic stones clicking on the plastic board, and the doctor's quickened breathing.  
  
"I have nothing." The doctor looked up from studying his position on the board and shook his head. "You've won by at least six moku."  
  
"Seven." Murasaki smiled gently. "It was a good game, doctor."  
  
"It was more than good. It was like playing a Meijin. Now, I don't know who you are or where you learned to play Go like that, but I've made my decision." Murasaki paused in the act of drawing his improvised kifu on another sheet of hospital stationary.  
  
"Decision?" The feminine face suddenly appeared distressed. "Did I do something wrong?" The doctor almost laughed.  
  
"One of my friends from the old KyoDai Go team is overseeing an amateur match next week. It's a little sudden, but for someone with your skill... More importantly, as Nurse Kurumae mentioned to me, you were obviously a Go player of some strength. If you appeared again, someone might recognize you. This could be the link to returning your memories." Murasaki looked down at the plastic goban, allowing the shorter pieces of hair in the front to fall over his forehead. Suddenly, he looked up.  
  
"Really? A Go tournament? Are the players very strong? What should I wear? Am I even allowed to go?" His fingers were twisted in the sheets, upsetting the goban in his anxiety. The doctor waved his hands quickly.  
  
"I've long since determined that you are quite sane. There's no reason to keep you here other than the amnesia... which is itself a disturbing mystery, and one that I hope to solve." The doctor took off his glasses and cleaned them with the edge of his coat. "As for what you should wear, I don't know. I suppose I'll ask Ogata."  
  
"Ogata?"  
  
"Yes, my old college roommate and Go club friend. He's 10-Dan, now - quit school halfway through to devote himself to Go. I'm almost certain he'll make an exception to the registration date for a player like you. Is there a problem?"  
  
"No, no! Nothing at all...!" Murasaki leapt up and began to flurry around the room in excitement. "Please thank Nurse Kurumae for me!"  
  
"I will, I will."  
  
  
  
Useful Japanese Section!  
  
Akashi: title of Chapter 13 in "The Tale of Genji", literally translating to "light/realization" and "stone" Yukata: A lightweight cotton kimono Moku penalty: White gets 5 1/2 extra moku (territory points) as a penalty against back for going first. Gomen nasai: "Forgive me." Nigiri: literally "squeeze", a term for holding go stones in one hand and having the other person guess whether it is an odd or even number, as a way of deciding who gets Black and goes first. KyoDai: Kyoto Daigaku, or Kyoto University. A very prestigious school. Do they have a Go club? I don't know... but I think TouDai (Tokyo) does... 


	8. Ukifune

Chapter Seven: Ukifune - A Boat Adrift  
  
"Mine."  
  
"Yours."  
  
"Definitely yours."  
  
"What is that?" Yang Hai and Isumi gingerly opened a container bearing the logo of a nearby carryout restaurant and immediately wished they hadn't. Last week's curry was now rather furry looking. A growing pile of socks, computer supplies, X-rated manga and T-shirts in varying states of putrefaction was accumulating in the center of the room as the two cleared out under the beds. Anything that didn't smell too terrible went into Isumi's bag, since he would be leaving China the next morning.  
  
"I can't believe we made this much of a mess in just a few weeks!" exclaimed Isumi, shoving the half-eaten curry into a plastic bag.  
  
"Well, most of it is mine..." admitted Yang Hai. "I mean, I'm not the kind of guy that would use your leaving as an excuse to get some help in cleaning my room, right?" Isumi laughed, throwing the trash bag to his Chinese friend.  
  
"Then you can get rid of this stuff before it starts evolving!" Sighing, he leaned back against the bed. "I think that's everything... who knew cleaning could be so tiring?!"  
  
"That's why I avoid it whenever possible!" Yang Hai typed a few short email responses on his laptop while Isumi cracked open two cans of coffee. "So, you'll stay in touch? You've got my email address and chat handle, right?" Isumi nodded, even though his computer skills were a bit lacking. Half the time he had no idea what Yang Hai was talking about.  
  
"Un. We'll definitely meet again, as pros."  
  
"Yeah, but China will kick your ass!"  
  
"Don't say that until you win!" Isumi grinned, both at the thought of winning pro tournaments and the realization that some part of himself had returned. Ever since being passed over at the pro exams yet again, he had withdrawn from everyone. But now... he could feel it. He had a chance, and he would win.  
  
"I want to see this Waya guy that you like so much." Isumi nearly choked on his coffee.  
  
"What? Waya? I never even talk about him, except that he looks like Le Ping's older brother!"  
  
"Yeah, you never talk about him at all. So I know you like him. That, and the way you keep looking at Le Ping!" Isumi grew red. That comment about Le Ping was completely and totally off. Waya was much taller and better looking.  
  
"What kind of logic is that?!" Yang Hai grinned, crushing his coffee can against the desk and pulling a few cans of beer from a drawer. He tossed one to Isumi, who frowned.  
  
"Okay, then, Isumi Shinichiro. Tell me that you don't have any feelings at all for Waya. If you can say that, I'll stop teasing you. And I'll take out the trash." Isumi suddenly opened his beer and took a long drink, trying to ignore the sour taste. His hair was already glued to his head with sweat, so he pushed it out of his eyes.  
  
"I... I... I'll take out the trash." Yang Hai made whooping noises as Isumi slung the trash bag over his shoulder, masking his sudden surge of glee with a defeated expression. That was the first time he had really admitted it, outside of daydreams.  
  
He was in love with Waya. Dragging the trash bag down the hallway of the Chinese Go Institute, he tightened his fist. It's the birth of a new Isumi, he thought as he pressed the elevator button perhaps a little more forcefully than necessary. The dumpsters were outside on the ground floor. No matter how much Yang Hai teased, his feeling would not change. By tomorrow afternoon, he would be staring Waya in the face once again and would finally be able to say...  
  
Isumi tossed the trash bag into the dumpster and threw the lid down with a dull metallic sound. It was fine to think like this now, in a back alley in a foreign country where no one, especially Waya, would ever have to know. If Waya could see into his mind, would he be shocked? Maybe even revolted, to think that the friend he had supported had been harboring such thoughts?  
  
Isumi returned to the elevator, but didn't feel like going anywhere. He allowed his body to slide against the cool metal until he was sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around himself even though the summer air was sticky. In the end, he was only Isumi - shy, nervous, easily forgotten. The elevator doors closed and the car began to go up, but he didn't even care. Everyone at the Chinese Go Institute thought he was just a crazy foreigner anyway, so even the sight of him crying in an empty elevator probably wouldn't turn many heads.  
  
Luckily, the long hair that his teachers had always wanted him to cut provided a little shelter for eyes that were already swollen. He had just about as much chance of getting Waya to love him as he did passing the pro exam. None. The elevator doors slid open, but Isumi didn't even bother to look up.  
  
"Isumi? Damn, you take forever... are you hurt or something? I'll go get somebody... wait, are you crying?" It was Yang Hai's voice, so Isumi kept his head down.  
  
"I'm fine," he mumbled. "Just..."  
  
"Tell me what's wrong!" demanded Yang Hai, uncharacteristically serious. "Damn it, Isumi, I..."  
  
"It's Waya. You were right." Yang Hai's face softened, and he mussed Isumi's hair with one hand.  
  
"Well then it's easy! You tell him how you feel, and everything works out in the end." The Chinese boy kneeled next to Isumi, trying to see past the curtain of hair.  
  
"What if he doesn't feel the same way? How the hell do you tell a guy that you're in love with him? Isumi's voice was soft, almost a whisper. "Why do I always feel like I'm behind in everything? Behind in the pro exam, behind in school, and very behind in this love stuff. What am I supposed to say?" He was almost pleading, now, to whatever gods could hear him as he sat motionless in an elevator shaft.  
  
"I don't know. Maybe what you say isn't important." Yang Hai closed the distance between their mouths with the ease of someone who had done it before. Isumi didn't even know how to respond, or if he should. And if it were Waya kissing him, what would he do? Yang Hai broke it off before he had even managed to get his mind working again. "And then, if he doesn't feel the same way about you, you just smile, and pretend it was another of your stupid jokes." Yang Hai stood up quickly, the lower half of his face twisted into a wide grin with the other half looking like it belonged to someone else.  
  
"Yang Hai, I..."  
  
"I'll see you off at the airport tomorrow. Make sure to email me all about Waya, okay?" With quick, shuffling steps, he almost ran back to his room. Isumi stood up slowly.  
  
Yang Hai... Waya... why was he always a few steps behind everyone else? He slowly walked back towards Yang Hai's room, tracing the carpet pattern with his eyes. The kiss had been so warm, and Yang Hai's breath on his face had been quick and shallow. But Isumi resolved to not think about the "whys" of his situation. Somehow, things had to work out. There was a reason for his failing the pro exam, and there was a reason for falling in love with Waya.  
  
He entered the room quietly since all the lights were dark. He could make out Yang Hai's form on the bed, stiffly still in feigned sleep. He... didn't feel the same way, maybe. But before pulling the bed sheets over his head, he whispered:  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Useful Japanese Section!  
  
Un - informal "yeah" 


	9. Maboroshi

^^ I'm so happy that people like this story - I really enjoy reading your comments. And so, I'll try to update frequently (because I have a school break and I can, hehe) Only two new chapters this time (it's a holiday!) but Akira gets some Heian poetry this time. Thank you very much for reviewing; I think you'll be happy to see things finally beginning to happen...  
  
Chapter 8: Maboroshi - Phantom  
  
"He what?!"  
  
"That late entry - Murasaki or whatever they said his name was - just crushed his opponent in the semifinals." Tsubaki punctuated this by slamming his alarmingly large hand into his equally large palm. Perhaps the former mechanic wasn't the perfect image of a Go player - tall, hairy and wearing a Harley-Davidson T-shirt with grease spots on the hem - but he made a fine supervisor. No one dared to cheat while a man who looked like he ate babies and axel grease for breakfast was overseeing the floor.  
  
"Impossible." Ogata's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. As an older pro, he was sometimes called in to watch over high-level amateur matches from the rule judges' table. But for a player to have risen so high in amateur ability without ever having been heard of before was just insane.  
  
Insane. Yamahana, his old college roommate, did work at a mental hospital... Had Yamada discovered some Go prodigy inside the walls of the institution? He had given Ogata no details over the phone except that his new Go player was very strong. This "Murasaki" seemed outwardly cheerful, and had thanked Ogata profusely for allowing him to play. But the expression while he played; of almost fevered intensity... From his seat at the judges' table, Ogata carefully watched the long-haired man begin his final game.  
  
Within minutes, his opponent, a young man who according to records was an amateur 4-dan, had begun to gnaw his fingertips in consternation. In an attempt to shift the balance away from Murasaki, the opponent had begun a game of very heated speed go. As far as Ogata could tell, Murasaki excelled at speed games as well. In another three quarters of an hour, it was all over. Murasaki stood up, allowing a white trenchcoat just slightly too large to billow out behind him.  
  
Tsubaki appeared next to Ogata and handed him a few sheets of paper. "The layouts of Murasaki's boards, from the first few games. Sorry they're kind of rough, but I kept breaking the pencil lead. And I couldn't get the order of moves, you know."  
  
"No, no, it's fine. I just wanted to see..." Ogata frowned at the first badly scrawled picture, and then shuffled through the rest. He touched certain arrangements of penciled dots with reverence. "These forms... are classic Shuusaku. I can almost feel how the game progressed - I studied games like this, when I was an insei. But there's something else, too..." Ogata dropped the papers on the judges' table and left Tsubaki looking very confused. He pushed through the end-of-the-match crowds towards one man in a long coat who seemed to have no interest in prizes or reporters.  
  
"Are you Sai?" he blurted, touching Murasaki on the shoulder. The elegant-looking man turned slowly to face Ogata, an odd expression on his face.  
  
"I don't know... do I look like him?"  
  
"Sai is an anonymous internet player. I don't know what he looks like, but from your game records there is no doubt in my heart. You are Sai." Ogata was breathless, but the look in his eyes was almost predatory. "You owe me a game." Murasaki smiled.  
  
"Well that's good! Sai, ne?" He called to a plain-looking middle- aged woman standing some distance away. "Nurse Kurumae! He knows who I am!" The woman rushed closer. Ogata was beginning to feel very left out of whatever was going on. Someone who had to be Sai, the player who exceeded even the pros, wasting time at a trivial amateur tournament. On top of that, he acted as if he didn't even know a "Sai."  
  
"Allow me to explain, sensei," began the woman. "We may have done you some disservice... in reality, this player is a patient of a Kyoto mental institution. But I assure you he is no danger - his only affliction seems to be a sort of total amnesia, which has improved little in the few months he has been in our care. Do you really believe him to be this 'Sai'? Could you put us in contact with Sai's family, or someone else who might know him?"  
  
Shindou, thought Ogata. Shindou was the only one with a true link to Sai. Ogata's mind worked, piecing together information. This Murasaki had been hospitalized for months... Shindou had been absent from the Go world for the same amount of time. It had to be Sai. But Ogata had to be sure.  
  
"There is... someone who might know Sai," began Ogata. "A young boy, a professional."  
  
"Is that so?!" Murasaki could scarcely contain his own excitement, covering his mouth with long fingers.  
  
"Yes, he's in Kyoto now for a professional series, as am I. I'm certain that he would recognize Sai... our hotel is across town, but I'd be willing to drive. You've won a good sum of prize money, but if hotel accommodations are a problem, you don't have to worry about that." Ogata frowned. "That is, if it's allowable to remove a mental patient..." Nurse Kurumae waved her hands in embarrassment.  
  
"No, no, Murasaki isn't properly a patient... he was given his clearance today. I'm only acting as his guardian for this tournament. If he wishes to go..."  
  
"Yes! I want to go!" Murasaki clasped his hands in delight. "A car ride, a car ride! Nurse Kurumae, thank you so much for bringing me here and showing me how to use the train and letting me borrow your son's clothes... what is the boy's name, who might know me?"  
  
"Touya... Touya Akira."  
  
  
  
Useful (?) Japanese Section:  
  
Maboroshi - Chapter 41 of "Genji", meaning illusion or dream. Tsubaki - For some reason I find it hilarious that a big hairy guy like Tsubaki has the name of a pretty flower (tsubaki means camellia). Actually, camellias are a bad omen in Japan because of the way their heads fall off when they wilt. (thank you, sensei, for the random information) Amateur 4-dan - Pro & amateur players are ranked by dan level, in which higher is better. Amateur players use two kinds of rankings, dan (1-6) and kyu, with dan being advanced. There are lots of levels of kyu; lower numbers are better. A new player is usually around 40 kyu but you can rise pretty quickly to 11 or so. Uhh, this is only interesting because you can use it to determine handicap. (I suck at Go, one million kyu. ^^;;) 


	10. Aoi

Chapter Nine: Aoi - Hollyhock  
  
"No, I've still got money left... there hasn't been much time for shopping... yes, I saw the Imperial Palace. Or at least the outside... You know I'll be fine, father. Tomorrow's opponent is Terachi Aya, she's very strong but plays so quickly that she makes mistakes. I'll be home in a few days... bye." Akira replaced the hotel phone in its holder and sat cross-legged on the bed. It was strange. It used to be his father calling from away matches, back when Touya Meijin had been Japan's top professional player... His father never did talk about why he had chosen to retire, and Akira had never pressed for an answer.  
  
It was only eight-thirty or so, too early to go to bed but too late to go out alone. And the person he really wanted to talk to... Why was he even thinking about Shindou? The boy was beneath him, and without Go they had absolutely nothing in common. Nothing at all.  
  
So he had been very surprised when Shindou dropped by his home yesterday. How did Shindou even know where he lived? Akira made a mental note to kill Ochi the next time the occasion presented itself. And so, the boy with the ridiculously two-toned hair had invited him out to get some ramen and check out the new video arcade.  
  
Akira hated video games. He couldn't stand ramen, either. And he especially hated Shindou, a boy with the nerve to proclaim himself a rival. And yet, he had gone with Shindou; and for a few hours, his heart felt so much lighter.  
  
Akira fluffed the uncomfortable hotel pillow before flipping idly through TV channels. There was nothing at all worth watching, and the noise in his head seemed to drown out the tinny voices, anyway. The only person he really hated... was himself. He hated his own uncertainty and the way he felt around Hikaru. Shindou. Using his given name would only complicated things that were difficult enough to understand. Akira had never feared anything until a boy with silly hair had suddenly appeared before him over two years ago. At that time, it was a fear of not being the best - but then to see the shaking, pathetic Hikaru at the junior high tournaments... he began to doubt his own intentions. Obviously, Hikaru was no match for him at Go - so why did Akira still feel as if he was chasing after someone elusive and special?  
  
But something had changed in Hikaru, while Akira had allowed himself to grow complacent... Now there were two fears - that Hikaru was closing in on him, and that he wanted to be caught. To face Hikaru as an equal... Another cold point of apprehension struck Akira. What if... what if he and Hikaru were truly the same? Both fourteen-year-old boys, with all the feelings that went along with that...  
  
He didn't have a chance to think about that because there was soon a sharp knocking at his door. Akira quickly opened it to see Ogata's pale face. And someone else, too, who he initially mistook for a girl. The stranger had extraordinarily long hair, which was only loosely gathered over one shoulder of his white trenchcoat. He looked nervous.  
  
"Touya-kun, I'd like you to meet someone from the amateur tournament. His name is Murasaki. Akira and Ogata's stranger exchanged the usual pleasantries, with the young man taking note of the strange name. Murasaki? And why was Ogata bringing an amateur player to him?  
  
"Ah..." began Akira, trying to think of a way to phrase his concerns politely.  
  
"I think I've found him." Dispensing with politeness, Ogata was uncharacteristically... on edge. Usually he was a man of one facial expression - determined - unless he was drunk. Akira didn't smell any alcohol.  
  
"Found who?" Ogata pushed his way past the door, placing a hand on Akira's shoulder that was so tense it had to have left bruises.  
  
"Sai." Akira's eyes involuntarily widened. Impossible... There was no "Sai." That mysterious player was only a bizarre joke of Shindou's...  
  
"You're mistaken. Shindou..."  
  
"Listen to me." Ogata's size pressed Akira against the door to prevent his escape. If Murasaki would have found any of this strange, he was engrossed in the bland hotel paintings that decorated the hallway. "I only saw kifu, but I at once recognised him. He claims to be an amnesiac who has been institutionalized for the past few months. It's Sai!" Ogata's eyes were wild with a strange desire.  
  
"Let me play him. There would be no mistaking the real Sai." The stranger was so excited that he was practically bouncing in the hotel hallway. Akira narrowed his eyes at Ogata. "But I don't believe that person is Sai."  
  
"A double game, both even. Murasaki takes black," announced Ogata. "I'm sure Touya-kun has the necessary materials." Akira pulled the practice goban off his side table and placed it on the floor, then rummaging through his suitcase until he pulled out a plastic case. Inside was a magnetic Go board, useful for recreating games when traveling. If anything, the stranger seemed even more overjoyed. In a double game against a 10-dan and Japan's most promising young player, it would take the true Sai's strength to manage anything but a defeat.  
  
Click, click. The travel board had a dull sound to it. Akira noted the postion after the first few moves on both boards - a classic Shuusaku fuseki, just off the upper right komoku... Within a few hands, however, he could not afford to watch Ogata's board. The game was progressing rapidly, and to think that Murasaki's time was halved by playing two people... Beads of sweat formed at Touya Akira's hairline. It was no longer a game taken straight from the Shuusaku textbooks. This player used inventive hands with almost effortless touches to the stones, long elegant fingers continuing Black's advancement over the board. More and more territory fell to the player whose gentle face belied merciless strategy, leaving white dead across the board.  
  
"I have nothing... Sai." He looked over at Ogata to see if his judgment had registered at all with the older man, but Ogata's jaw was set with a look of absolute concentration, and a sort of longing. On Ogata's board, the interplay of black and white was even more intense, but Black's lead was apparent. In yose, with limited area to cover, the conclusion was obvious.  
  
"You are Sai," whispered Ogata. "I couldn't make myself believe it, but you are..." Akira nodded hesitantly. Murasaki, or Sai, only looked more lost. Ogata looked as if he desperately wanted a drink - and an entire packet of cigarettes. He excused himself politely, but took the magnetic Go board containing his game with him. No doubt he planned to analyze his game against the master while consoling himself with a bottle of sake, or something stronger.  
  
"I'm... Sai?" With wide eyes, he whispered: "Who is this Sai?"  
  
Akira desperately wanted to tell Sai the truth - he had no idea who Sai was, or why Ogata had brought this strange man to him. But then he thought of Hikaru. Hikaru, whose easy smiles both excited and infuriated him; Shindou who chased him even as he chased Shindou... his rival. And also the one closest to his heart... This was unallowable. Shindou was his weakness, no matter what the boy's connection to Sai actually was. There was no room for weakness, much as his heart screamed against his rational mind.  
  
"Sai was... is... a genius player of Go. Higher than even the top pros. And..." Akira trailed off. This man was Sai, and yet remembered nothing... He wouldn't remember Hikaru. Now it all fell into place - this was Hikaru's secret! Without Sai, Hikaru was helpless, forced to quit Go. If Akira could learn from the master, the infallible player... there would be no weakness.  
  
"And you were my teacher. But I never saw your face - we always played over the internet. Yes... and several months ago you disappeared mysteriously, and I thought you had gone." Akira hoped Sai would not notice the sweat dripping down his neck, but the older man seemed far to enthralled with piecing together his past to notice the quaver of falseness to Akira's voice.  
  
Forgive me, he thought; but whether his silent apology was meant for Sai or Hikaru, no one could guess.  
  
Useful Japanese Section:  
  
Aoi - title of chapter 9 in "The Tale of Genji", which is translated sometimes as "Heart to Heart". but the kanji really means hollyhock. In flower language, hollyhock can stand for ambition. Murasaki - Aside from being the name of a character in "Genji", and the pen name of its author, it means "purple" or "violet." Kind of weird for a guy's name. (even if Sai is the blue-lipstic sort of guy) Shuusaku - a really great Go player from the Edo period (over 100 years ago) who is Sai's first host in the series... but he was a real guy, too! Honninbo Shuusaku, aka Torajiro. Fuseki - the opening moves of a game. There happens to be a well-known Shuusaku fuseki, which was not used for a while because of rule changes but now seems to be making a comeback... why do I know this? Anyway, it wouldn't be completely out of the ordinary to see someone playing this old style of opening. Komoku - the "stars" of the board, on or around them is a common starting position. Yose - The later part of a Go game, where you're supposed to be tying up things and such.  
  
And sorry for messing with Akira like that... I really do love him; I just want to play with him for a while. (But Sai and Isumi are still my favorites, hehe) 


	11. For Akira

For Akira...  
  
  
  
Like Michinoku prints  
Of the tangled leaves of ferns,  
It is because of you  
That I have become confused;  
But my love for you remains.  
  
  
~Minamoto no Toru   
  
  
  
  
(Note: This is another Heian period tanka poem, 10th century I believe. Michinoku is a poetic Heian term for the Mutsu province, so I guess he's referring to artwork from there.) 


	12. Hanachirusato

Thank you as always to the people who reviewed! You're all so kind - I don't deserve such nice comments, since I more or less failed my way through English. ^^;;; Well, I've finally been able to see the Hikaru no Go anime, and could scarcely contain my excitement: "They move, they MOVE!" ^^;;; Uhh... I don't think I've even attempted to play Go since middle school or so, but I maybe I'll try my school's club... But now I'm all impatient to see Isumi animated in all his self-depreciating glory, so naturally this is an Isumi chapter...  
  
Chapter Ten: Hanachirusato - Scattering Flowers  
  
Was it really Waya, or had Le Ping just grown taller? In past two months spent in China, Isumi had divided his thoughts pretty much equally between Go and Waya. Possibly a little more for Waya... It felt good to be back in Japan again. From across the street, Waya noticed him staring and started to wave.  
  
"Isumi!!" Thankfully the traffic had stopped when Waya dashed across the street, meeting Isumi halfway and dragging him into the nearest restaurant, a McDonald's that was fortunately near empty. "You were gone so long that I sold all your stuff to Ochi. Just kidding!" Waya ran a hand through unruly brown hair, rolling his eyes at the older boy. He ordered two meals and began to search through his pockets for money, but Isumi manage to produce a crumpled 1000-yen note. Waya, as usual, accepted the "loan." Just like old times...nothing was different. "You could have called a little more, or something. When you telephoned yesterday from the airport, I was so surprised that I didn't even recognize your voice at first."  
  
How was Isumi supposed to say that the reason for his long-distance silence was that he was afraid of betraying his true feelings? Even now, his hands were trembling. Feigning nonchalance, he folded them across his chest as they sat across from each other in the small booth; the Big Mac advertisement filtered the light that poured over Waya's face into brilliant colors.  
  
"Um... well... I..." Thankfully Isumi didn't have to elaborate on how exactly he had spent his time... he imagined telling Waya about Yang Hai and flushed. Waya, though, was already leaping on to the next subject.  
  
"I expected you to look older! Didn't they feed you anything in China? Did you kick their asses?"  
  
"Umm... well I started out a little poorly, but... it was okay. The Chinese students are really tough! Maybe even harder to beat than the Korean insei... Oh! There was a guy who looked almost exactly like you; called Le Ping."  
  
"Le Ping?" echoed Waya, sounding out the foreign name. "Was he cuter than me?" Waya let out a loud laugh, slurping his soda.  
  
"He was twelve!" Waya didn't look much more mature, letting the end of the French fry he was nibbling to hang out of his mouth.  
  
"I want to play him! There's no substitute for the real Waya!" Waya paused, biting his lip. "Oh yeah... you said on the phone that there was something you wanted to tell me."  
  
Isumi blanched, but the colored light from the window masked his expression well enough. He wasn't ready... how did people do this on TV? Why had he spent so much time studying Go instead of preparing for even more stressful situations like this? The "Yang Hai" approach was a bit extreme....  
  
"I... Oh! When I was at the airport, I found an issue of Weekly Go at the magazine shop. It said Shindou lost by forfeit - did something happen to him? Is he sick?" Waya furrowed his brow and looked towards the window.  
  
"It's nothing new. Shindou's forfeited every match since May. He doesn't even show up. I was pissed at him for a while... but I guess he's got his reasons for not talking to anyone. Maybe you should speak with him." The last sentance was oddly flat, coming from someone as energetic as Waya.  
  
Isumi internally winced. Was that meant as a comment about Isumi, too? That was the last thing he had wanted... to alienate Waya. But in his selfishness, he must have angered his closest friend. Or caused him to worry... hos disgustingly selfish. Isumi's anxiety was compunded by shame. How could he make Waya understand the truth - that his feelings were the sort that could not be spoken? If only things didn't have to change...  
  
"Waya... why don't we go to the park?"  
  
"What for?"  
  
"Sakura viewing..."  
  
"Uhh... Isumi, it's summer..."  
  
"What, you think the sakura are going to wait for us?" Isumi laughed a bit, trying to sound carefree. Cherry trees bloomed only a few days before the blossoms began to scatter, but the leaves remained. Except for a few days on the very cusp of spring, no one remembered the cherry trees - their plain greenery faded into the background, allowing other flowers to fight with colors that seemed gaudy and tasteless compared to the first fading hints of pink.  
  
Waya shrugged and tossed his leftovers in the trash. The park was only a block away, across the street. The walk through the pedestrian tunnel that ran under the street was oddly quiet, just a muted exchange of updates on friends. Nase, Fuku, even Ochi... two months apart seemed like a lifetime. Even the city he had grown up in felt a little changed. And with Shindou's mysterious disappearance from the Go world, only Waya was as he remembered.  
  
"Hey, this is where we had a picnic last spring, right?" asked the tousle-haired boy, pointing to a small grove of trees. "It's still kind of pretty."  
  
"Yeah." Isumi wasn't looking at the trees. His gaze flicked from his own shoes, to the back of Waya's head, and then back to the ground again. "I had something else to tell you, too."  
  
"Huh? What's that?" Waya turned back around to face Isumi, then leaned his body against one of the low-growing trees. Isumi settled against the same tree, thankful for the leaf-covered branches that gave him some shelter. On the other side of a patchy curtain of leaves was the person he loved more than anything in the world. Love. It was no longer something that Isumi was capable of denying or hiding.  
  
"I... I did a lot of thinking while I was in China. About... things that are important to me. First, I'm going to pass the pro exam this year. The only reason I couldn't do it before was that I never pursued anything with my whole heart - I was afraid. Of a lot of things." Isumi took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. Waya must have sensed this, because he didn't say anything.  
  
"But I didn't need two months alone to figure just that out. There's something more important than pro exams, even... I always knew, but it wasn't something I could put into words..." Isumi trailed off, leaving several awkward seconds before Waya's hesitant, almost whispered request to continue. He couldn't see Waya's face through the pattern of leaves, so this was almost like a confession. The more he said, the easier it became.  
  
"I... you... Waya, I think I love you." There, it was done. Isumi slumped against the tree, allowing the tension in his body to be carried away into the ground. It lacked the passionate efficiency of the kiss from Yang Hai that still lingered on his lips, but it was Isumi's own declaration. He could only look at the ground and wonder what Waya was thinking. Was this the end of their friendship?  
  
"Isumi?" Isumi raised his head only to be startled by a disembodied face framed by leaves. Waya, breaking through Isumi's curtain like it didn't exist at all. "Isumi, why won;t you look at me?"  
  
"It's nothing... ignore me. We should go home."  
  
"But we haven't finished yet." Isumi's eyes widened - what did Waya mean? "I thought you would kiss me."  
  
"You... want me to...?" For a second, Isumi's terrifed eyes met Waya's earnest ones, and something beyond words was exchanged.  
  
"Un." Waya blushed furiously, pushing the leaves from his face with his hands. "I... I don't know. It's weird to think about! But... I kind of hoped that... Isumi, I've been thinking about you, too! Shindou changed and everyone was busy with pro matches or... the other insei stopped calling me just plain 'Waya' and I wondered if it was me who was different. And without you... I never realised how important you are to me."  
  
"Waya..."  
  
"Was that supposed to be a confession?" Waya grinned, the familiar light coming back to his face. "Kiss me, you idiot, or I'll never shut up."  
  
Isumi complied only too willingly. Reaching through the low branches and completing the circle between them, finally closing all point of contact. Waya's lips were soft; and when Isumi closed his eyes, he could see the sakura falling.  
  
Useful Japanese Section!:  
  
Hanachirusato- Chapter 11 of "Genji", meaning "falling flowers"... specifically the sakura, long a symbol of innocence and transient beauty. sakura - Japanese cherry tree, which I figure everyone knows but I'll put it just to be safe. Lots of people go on sakura-viewing picnics at parks or shrines. If you've never been to a Sakura Matsuri (sakura festival), see if there is one in your area! 


	13. Kochou

Well, I've just introduced my sister to Hikago... she likes it, but I think she finds it weird that I proudly declare myself to be a Touya Kouyo fan. He might be a bit old, but he's cool! Really! ^^;;; When he puts down a stone, it just goes "whoosh!" *laughs*  
  
Chapter Eleven: Kochou - Butterflies  
  
Touya Kouyo was the sort of man who always seemed older than his true age. Perhaps it was due to becoming a professional at an age when most young men were planning for their futures in business or marriage - and he had chosen to take a step backward in devoting his life to a game that was thousands of years old. Even the clothing he wore placed him in another time, a Japan as far removed from today's fast-paced world as the West. Touya Kouyo remained always a phase shift apart from everyone else, perhaps sharing in their physical world but always a relic from the past.  
  
As such, he took his son's strange request in stride and had begun to clear the guest room. His doctor probably would frown on him moving boxes and such things, but Touya Kouyo wasn't about to let a sharp mind rot inside a dying body. The dust, however, made him wheeze, so he sat down on the edge of the bed.  
  
"It's Sai, Father!," or so Akira had said. Akira rarely allowed himself to be excited or confused by anything, but his voice over Ogata's cell phone had hinted at both. "Sai is here in Kyoto... Father, don't take this as a sign of disrespect... but I want to learn from him. I'm sure he holds secrets to winning against..."  
  
Shindou, filled in Touya Kouyo, although Akira had quickly mumbled something about "top foreign pros." A father knew his son, though, so he easily guessed his son's true motivation. He wasn't too worried about Shindou, though - if anything, the funny-looking boy was the closest person Akira had to a friend. As long as the competition between them remained friendly, he didn't object to Akira taking an outside teacher.  
  
Especially a teacher he strongly desired to play. Ever since the second disappearance of the Internet's strongest player, "toya koyo" had made several discreet inquiries into "sai's" true identity, only to come up with nothing. Even attempts to trace the player's location had only lead to an anonymous Internet cafe downtown. That only narrowed his query down to the millions of people who lived in or passed through Tokyo. Touya Kouyo had only been able to hope that Sai would eventually present himself again. If the son had become obsessed with the mystery of Sai and Shindou, it had weighed just as heavily on his father...  
  
He assumed that Shindou had known Sai's location in Kyoto all along - after all, the boy had obviously studied with the master. His playing style was like a fingerprint to an experienced devotee of Go. Perhaps Sai would know why Shindou had suddenly abandoned Go, especially after such a promising start...  
  
"I'm home, father," called the still boyishly-pitched voice of Akira from the front hall. Touya Kouyo left his reverie to greet his son - and their visitor. In his day, it had been common for a student to live with a teacher or vice versa, so he was perfectly willing to open his home to Sai. He supposed it would not be appropriate to demand a game immediately...  
  
"Welcome home, Akira. Is this really Sai?" Sai was somehow exactly what he had expected, and yet not. The appearance of the great player was feminine and youthful, unlike the wrinkled Honninbo or most other high- level pros. And yet his hands were the delicate sort accustomed to handling the stones, and quick-moving eyes were already taking in the features of the Touya home.  
  
"Yes... Sai, this is my father, the former Meijin." Sai clasped his hands together and exclaimed in a soft voice:  
  
"Oh! It's an honor to meet you in person!" So this was Sai... he didn't seem much like a serious Go player, but once his eyes alit on the goban sitting in the Touya living room, he rushed over to inspect it.  
  
"Oh, real slate and clamshell stones~!" Perhaps the wrinkled lines of an experienced Go player were missing, but the joy of being able to play was evident. Touya Kouyo smiled softly to himself until he looked over at his son. Akira seemed strangely uneasy - but it was probably just a trick of the light." "I want to play someone!" exclaimed Sai, fingering the edges of the board. "Touya-sensei, could I have the honor?"  
  
The last time Sai had faced Touya Kouyo, it had ended in the senior player's promise retirement coming to fruition... and yet there was no apprehension at all to the former Meijin. If anything, he was... captivated by the exuberance of their houseguest, who if he remembered their previous encounter had the tact to not mention it in front of Akira. That game was still a sensitive subject for the young pro.  
  
"Certainly, but it is I who would be honored." Sai hid his giggle behind his arm like a geisha accustomed to flowing sleeves. "Although a proper host would allow you to settle in first." Sai only smiled at him.  
  
"I have nothing."  
  
"No suitcase?" Sai shook his head.  
  
"I had no need for anything at the hospital - one of the nurses graciously gave me some of her son's old clothing, but I'm afraid I haven't anything else to bring... oh dear, I didn't realize I would be imposing..." Once again he hid part of his face, splaying long fingers as in the spokes of a fan. His style of speech was ornate and yet flowing, like someone accustomed to poetry... Touya Kouyo shook his head.  
  
"No, no, it's not a problem at all. Please, make yourself comfortable. It's only myself and Akira in this house, and he spends half the week with his mother. It has grown too quiet here, and there is more than enough space." More than enough disturbance, too, with pros asking to come nearly every night to play the great retired Meijin. Once they heard about Sai, the flow would only increase. No matter, it would be good for Akira's training to observe so many games between the highest-level players.  
  
"I thank you!" Sai bowed deeply, allowing long, unbound hair to cascade to the floor. Touya Kouyo felt his breath hitch at the sight. It was ridiculous... he scarcely knew this Sai, and yet he felt as if...  
  
"Father..." began Akira. "About Sai-sensei..." The man in question sighed deeply, straightening himself.  
  
"I suppose I should tell you... there was an accident several months ago, and I nearly drown... since then, I remember almost nothing. I had been hospitalized, and within the past few days have pieces of my memory began to filter back. I feel I should know you, both of you. So, please forgive me... I see both my past and future in Tokyo, although I hope that in the latter I may be of as much assistance to your son as is in my power." Another bow, and a sad smile.  
  
"I have every confidence in you," stated the former Meijin. "Why don't we begin with a game after dinner?" Sai nodded, seemingly relieved to have the attention taken off of him. Even as he turned to follow Akira on a tour of the house, Touya Kouyo's stare followed the tall, elegant man as he walked away.  
  
An amnesiac... perhaps he would never know the secret of Sai's real identity. But wasn't there someone else who had been close to Sai...?  
  
Shindou Hikaru. The same Shindou whose mysterious absence was the talk of young pros. For some time, Touya Kouyo had believed it to be related to his pressures on the boy to play Sai... but what if Sai himself was the root of the problem? Had there been a falling out between Sai and Shindou, or... Sai had mentioned an accident. There were a myriad of possibilities, none of which settled well in Touya Kouyo's heart.  
  
Akira, though, was Shindou's friend, and certainly had drawn the same conclusions. For now, it was probably better to leave matters concerning Shindou to his son. Shindou... Touya Kouyo had not missed his son's true feelings for the other boy, despite Akira's flustered attempts to cover them with bravado. Akira was growing older, as was Shindou. It was useless to pretend that they would be children forever - already both had entered the adult world, and it would change them.  
  
Touya Kouyo touched the edge of the goban softly, listening to the muffled voices of his son and the new teacher coming from the back part of the house. It seemed there would be much to discuss with Akira.  
  
Useful Japanese Section!:  
  
Kochou - Butterfly, the title of chapter 24 in "Genji" (hmm, I found an online list of chapters so I can stop dog-earing my book...) Honninbo - Another really high title for professional Go players (named after Honninbo Shuusaku!) Slate and clamshell: Finer go stones are made from slate and clamshell, and are more expensive. 


	14. For Kouyo

For Kouyo...  
  
  
  
The weeds grow so thick   
You cannot even see the path   
That leads to my house:   
It happened while I waited   
For someone who would not come   
  
  
~Soujou Henjou (815-890) 


	15. Momiji no Ga

Ah, another happy-feeling chapter... for now... *evil grin* I'm having a lot of fun writing this, but since exams are coming up, I may have to slow down a bit. ^^;;;  
  
Chapter Twelve: Momiji no Ga - The Joy of Autumn  
  
Hikaru slung his school bag over his shoulder, chewing on a piece of gum. No history homework tonight, at least, although if his mother had seen that last test she would have him doing homework even when it wasn't assigned. Since Akari had the highest grade in history, Mrs. Shindou was always mentioning how nice it would be to have her tutor him. Hikaru winced - Mitani would kill him in some painful way. Even though Akari had finally stopped staring wistfully at Hikaru, Mitani's glares were more than enough reminder. Well, as long as they were happy, right?  
  
Hikaru, too, was as happy as he had been in months. Even though Sai's absence lingered over him just as much as the ghost had, it felt so... right... to play Go again. Isumi had challenged him to complete the game they had started once before, and...the "click" of stones against the board had been exactly the same as when Sai had been there, sort of like a tiny reminder of his departed friend. Maybe Sai had been right - even after a thousand years, there were some things that remained constant. Even so...  
  
His thoughtful expression brightened as soon as he saw Isumi's tall form on the other side of the park. Waya should be somewhere around there too - they had agreed to meet at the fountain before picking a random Go salon to practice at. It was just like old times - Isumi was back from China, Waya seemed happy, and Hikaru was playing Go again. Unbeknownst to two of them, though, the fourth member of their circle was missing...  
  
There was Waya... sneaking up on poor Isumi, standing quietly in front of the fountain... his arms snaked around the older one's waist, causing Isumi to jump. But then, Isumi relaxed into the touch, leaning back into Waya's embrace. They exchanged a whisper, and then turned to share a kiss... Hikaru's backpack slipped off his shoulder, the sudden noise startling him. Luckily, he was too far away for Waya and Isumi to have noticed.  
  
Isumi... and Waya... Well, Hikaru had always suspected something, but it was a bit of a shock to actually see it. And at the same time, a warm feeling... If only he were a little more sure about Akira...  
  
Akira! Hikaru blushed nervously, suddenly conscious of being in public even though he was standing on a near-empty side street. If anyone knew how he felt about Akira - especially Akira! - he might die of embarrassment. Still, he really looked forward to seeing the dark-haired boy on the other side of a goban. Their few meetings over the summer had been great, but lately Akira had distanced himself completely. Had Hikaru frightened him off?  
  
It was a little bit cooler than usual for the end of August, a strange in-between time before the "Indian Summer" set in. A green leaf bearing a trace of scarlet spiralled down from a tall tree. Hikaru's gaze followed it until he noticed Waya running off, waving. Weren't they all supposed to find a Go salon? He shook off his disbelief and ran through the wooded park towards Isumi.  
  
"Hey, Isumi? Where's Waya?"  
  
"Waya?" Isumi couldn't quite hide the flush that spread across his face. "Uhh... his aunt is getting married, so his family is going to Yokohama for the wedding..." Hikaru waved it off with his usual smile.  
  
"Oh well. We'll have a double match, then!" He made a fighting gesture, which Isumi copied a little awkwardly. "The pro exam starts soon, right? Pretty soon we'll have to start charging for our services!"  
  
"Heh, I don't want to get my hopes up so early, but..." Isumi looked up at the light glinting off the fountain's stream of water. "This year... I don't know, I really feel like I can make it."  
  
"Congratulations!" There was a slyness to Hikaru's tone that set Isumi on edge. Hikaru could see the hairs on the back of the older player's neck stand up.  
  
"What, I haven't passed yet!"  
  
"Well, that's not what I was congratulating you for!" Hikaru's easy smile was contrasted by Isumi's sudden pale look of shock. It was easy to tease Isumi, so Hikaru felt a pang of pity - for less than a millisecond.  
  
"Umm... Hikaru... what do you..."  
  
"Waya, stupid! Sheesh, you're worse than a junior high girl... it took you forever!" Hikaru found himself unable to stop smiling, which soon spread to Isumi. Was this what it was like to be in love? If it was, then... Hikaru wanted it more than anything. More than winning tournaments, more than passing history, more than...  
  
"Waai, am I that obvious? It's just... Waya... you know..." He threw up his hands in a helpless gesture, flustered but glad. "I kind of still can't believe it myself... and you... you're okay with it? I mean..."  
  
"Yeah, yeah!" Hikaru's head bobbed up and down. "I'm really happy for you, it's just..."  
  
"Just what?"  
  
"There's this... person... that I like... and... uh..." Isumi sat down on the edge of the fountain so he and Hikaru were more level.  
  
"Would his name be Akira?" Hikaru's eyes widened. How did Isumi know - it was this hard to just tell Isumi about his feelings! Confessing to Akira was going to be impossible!  
  
"Uhhh..." Isumi still had that goofy grin plastered on his face. "I don't know what to say to him, though! The way he looks at me... it's so cool. But I..."  
  
"Hikaru." Isumi had regained some of his composure, and now looked at Hikaru with gentle eyes. "It doesn't matter what you say, really, or what you do. If you go with whatever is in your heart... you can't be wrong."  
  
"I don't know. Akira's hard to talk to - I can't seem to say anything, really, when I'm around him."  
  
"I always thought I'd be the last person anyone would go to for romantic advice," laughed Isumi. "I've only known one thing in my entire life, and that's Go." He leaned back and dangled one hand in the clear water of the fountain. Small yellow fish came up to bite at his fingers, but drifted off once they had determined that Isumi was not edible.  
  
"It was easier when we were just rivals. How about you and Waya?"  
  
"Waya?" Isumi looked confused for a moment. "We've never been rivals, really... it's not always about winning, it's about playing a good game that satisfies both sides." He pulled his hand from the pool and watched the water drip from his fingertips onto the stone ledge. "But you know a Shuusaku fuseki, right?" Hikaru nodded - he knew a lot more Shuusaku than just the opening moves... but thinking of Shuusaku reminded him of Sai. Sai had always spoken so fondly of his first host and beloved "Torajiro", who had died so tragically young. So, yeah, he knew the fuseki.  
  
"Well, I'm sure you know why it's not played so much anymore. It's too slow... there has to be an element of aggression to Go as well. If you want something, you have to take risks and stake your claims. If you hold your stones too closely, you might end up missing crucial opportunities." Isumi cocked his head and smiled slightly. "But then again, I only know about Go. In love, I'm a beginner too..." Hikaru, though, felt a little better.  
  
"Thank you, sensei!" he declared with an overdone bow. Isumi waved him away, laughing.  
  
"Sensei? Hardly! Let's say we skip practice tonight... maybe you could..."  
  
"Visit Akira?" Hikaru wouldn't admit to being afraid, but his heart fluttered at the though. "Yeah... I just might do that..."  
  
Useful Japanese section!: Momiji no Ga: Chapter 7 in "Genji", which my edition translates as "Beneath the Autumn Leaves"... but really it's something more like the joy of seeing fall colors. 


	16. Yokobue

Chapter Thirteen: Yokobue - Flute  
  
"Your ability to read games like that borders on precognition, Sai- sensei." Touya Kouyo laughed, sipping at his tea. Touya Kouyo almost always played a game against his son every morning, but today, Akira had been running a bit late and the game was left unfinished. Sai, however, had quickly been able to point out the one stone that would eventually cost the younger Touya his position in the entire upper left quadrant.  
  
"Ah, there's no need to be so formal with me, Touya-sensei!" Sai bowed quickly, following Touya Kouyo into the living room. Since he had brought no possessions of his own, Sai had simply borrowed some of the other man's old clothing. It suited him well, or so he thought. The plain, flowing hakama made soft noises on the floor as he walked.  
  
"In that case, Kouyo will do." Afternoon light flooded through the paper-covered windows of the Touya home.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Kouyo. You should call me 'Kouyo.'"  
  
"Oh." Sai mentally repeated that to himself: Kouyo, Kouyo. Like so many other things, it had that maddeningly familiar feeling - a part of himself held just out of reach. Why did Kami-sama toy with him in such a way? Quickly he banished such thoughts from his mind. There was a reason for everything, and sometimes truth was only apparent in hindsight. So, part of his mind quietly accepted the emptiness within, content to hope for some glimmer of memory. The other half was simply impatient and selfish, or so he attempted to convince himself.  
  
"Sai... You know a Hikaru Shindou, right?"  
  
"Hmm? Hikaru... well, you know how things always strike me as familiar..." Touya Kouyo frowned in thought. He often appeared stiff and stern - an impression only strengthened by the ramrod-straight way in which he sat on the couch. Sai, in contrast, allowed his willowy body to rest comfortably beside the older man. Eventually, Kouyo's face softened from whatever exercise of thought he had been conducting.  
  
"In any case, I'm grateful for your company. I didn't realize how lonely this house could become. My wife always wanted to redecorate - she said this place began to feel like a museum after a while." Sai had already met Touya Kouyo's wife when she came to pick up Akira for the weekend - although Akira probably spent more time with his father due to school and tournaments. "Akira also appreciates your help... he means well, but he's a distant boy."  
  
Distant was a mild way of putting it - Sai had not seen Touya Akira smile once in the weeks he had spent in their home. He often seemed distracted, and made mistakes that a player like Sai easily recognized as the errors of a troubled mind. And yet what help could Sai possibly be - a man who could barely remember his own name? The last thing he wanted was to appear discontent.  
  
But in truth, he was happy. Almost from the first instant he had met Touya Kouyo, he had sensed a certain power in the older man. Although he played with ruthless strategy in Go, he was a surprisingly warm father to his ever-cool son. Even though Touya Kouyo presented him with yet another set of conflicting emotions and half-remembered echoes of the past, Sai felt himself drawn closer.  
  
"Is something wrong?" Sai shook his head, trying awkwardly to clear his thoughts.  
  
"No, nothing... just thinking." A few more moments were spent in silence until Sai dared to venture a question. It was not a fear of Kouyo's stony expression - that he knew to be a false cover for a kind person. Instead, he feared himself - in not being able to contain the warring feelings within himself. "Kouyo... isn't it a little bit strange..." He trailed off.  
  
"What's strange?"  
  
"I am. I don't remember anything, though I'm trying so hard to. You've told me that we've met before - it was over a computer, yes, but I feel like I should remember! Kouyo, I want to remember!" Sai's usually soft voice rose in intensity until it was almost frantic. He instantly pulled back, suddenly realizing how close he had become to Kouyo, and how acutely he felt that distance.  
  
"Does it really matter who you were?" asked Kouyo, quietly. "There are people who would welcome the chance to start over with no memory of the things they've done wrong, or the people they've hurt."  
  
"But... even painful memories..."  
  
"Sai, sometimes I think that I've devoted my life to the pursuit of nothing more than a game. All around me, people live normal lives. There were times when my wife and son passed before my eyes as if nothing more than a dream, or ghosts. I've never been much of a father, or a lover. Now that I'm retired... I have time to sit alone with my memories."  
  
"Would you give them all up, though? Wouldn't you want to remember Akira, and..." Sai earnestly met Kouyo's eyes. "Aren't there people that make you complete? Living like this is no better than living like a ghost. It's a half-life."  
  
"Sai..." Touya Kouyo's body lost its usual stiffness as he leaned back into the couch. "I'd want to remember you."  
  
It was a gnawing, terrible emptiness. Not only the place where memories of Kouyo should be, but memories of someone else as well... the silence of vacuum was deafening. Sai couldn't hold on much longer. Lowering his head, he reached out one slim hand for Kouyo's. That hand seemed so warm on a brisk late summer morning, probably from holding a teacup. Out of their own will, his fingers seemed to entwine with Kouyo's. Or maybe it was Kouyo who was moving; Sai had veiled the outside world away from himself with a curtain of black hair.  
  
And then, another set of warm fingertips settled on his face. It was then that Sai realised he was crying, when a cool wet feeling was smeared across his cheek. He wanted to hide his face, but Kouyo's hand gently forced him to look up.  
  
"Sai... please." It was so hard to breath - a warm feeling had overtaken the emptiness, but even that was painful. He felt as if he might burst. Kouyo's hand on his face... unconsciously he leaned into that touch even as the hand slipped lower, eventually caressing his neck before finally breaking contact. Sai, though, still craved more.  
  
It didn't take much, really, to let his body simply fall lightly against Kouyo's. Unintelligible words slipped from his mouth in another language - some part of his mind identified it as Chinese, but even Sai couldn't fathom the meaning of his own words. Perhaps they didn't even matter. He was crying as if his body was merely filled with salt water.  
  
Kouyo's first kiss reminded Sai of the way moths flocked to a paper lantern on summer nights. It was so soft that it could have been missed. Disjointed images entered Sai's mind - a maple leaf following a stream current, and chrysanthemums eerily touched by an early frost. A soft song played on a flute that seemed to conjure the wind to whip through tall grass. As his mind clawed for these fragments of memory, his lips met Kouyo's again with the same feverent desperation.  
  
Finally, though, there were only two people wrapped so tightly in each other's arms that they might have been inseparable.  
  
"I want to remember you."  
  
  
  
Useful Japanese Section!:  
  
Yokobue - Chapter 37 of "Genji", meaning "flute." Sai seems to have been a flute player... Hakama - the pants/skirt things that Touya Kouyo always wears. That style of hakama is traditional men's clothing, also worn by a lot of martial artists. Chinese language - Sai would have spoken Chinese in addition to Japanese... during the Heian period, the official court language used by men was Chinese, and Japanese was considered women's language. So, most of the beautiful early Japanese literature and poetry were written by women. 


	17. For Isumi

For Isumi...  
  
  
  
I once saw my beloved one  
For a moment in a nap;  
Since then I have begun  
To look to dreams with hope.   
  
  
~Ono no Komachi (9th century) 


	18. Kumo ga kure

Only one this time, because of schoolwork... but during japanese class I did draw a little pic for this story, which I've uploaded here: http://www.matmice.com/home/gomapurple_3/chi.gif I suppose this part of the story will take more than one chapter, so... look forward to it?  
  
And this chapter's poem is in the picture ^^;;. It reads: Kaku shi nomi/ Arikeru mono wo/ Imo mo ware mo/ Chi tose no gotoku/ Tanomitarikeru.  
  
We were together/ Only a little while/ Though a thousand years/ We believed our love would last.  
  
~Ootomo no Yakamochi (8th century)  
  
Chapter Fourteen: Kumo ga kure - Vanished into the Clouds  
  
"So, what would be the best course of action in a situation like this?" Sai placed a black stone next to Akira's white, smiling. Akira had never played someone who seemed so overjoyed simply to be playing. Of course, this was only shidougo, so Sai wasn't putting forth his full power - he didn't really need to, which reminded Akira of just how much further he had to go as a player.  
  
"I would... let's see, I would attach here." Akira placed his stone next to another white and waited for Sai's comment. It was only early evening, but Akira's mind was frazzled. He had spent the afternoon with his mother, which was normally pleasant; this time there had been so many other things on his mind that his mother insisted he looked sick and should be taken home to his father. Mrs. Touya had lived with her family for some time, and even though Akira kept half of his things there it could feel a little unwelcome. His younger cousins glared at him from behind his back, mocking his serious expression.  
  
"A good move! In many cases, it's better to defend your own area than to make risky moves. But..." His eyes flashed, hinting at the true ability he controlled while playing Akira. "What if this were not shidougo? What if... you were playing someone willing to take risks, someone who might try unusual hands to throw you off?" Black followed quickly after white, creating a formation that Akira would not have expected. It seemed to have no advantage, but..."  
  
"Playing conservatively only works when you are certain of your lead," stated Sai a few turns later. "Look at the board - can you tell which of us is ahead?" After a few moments of concentration, Akira shook his head.  
  
"I can't read the game so far ahead."  
  
"Then the only way to ensure a win is to play with determination. Not recklessly - you don't want to end up with something more complicated than you can control." Akira knew all these things. His father, who was currently searching his study for an old issue of Go Weekly, would say the exact same words. And yet Sai seemed to play inventive and possibly deadly hands without the slightest sense of fear. Unlike Akira, who had second thoughts about everything...  
  
"Akira?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, it's my move." Akira quickly put down a stone. Even though he thought it to be a good placement, Sai frowned. "Was that a poor move?"  
  
"No, the move was fine... it's just that you seem distracted by something. Is it your upcoming match with Shindou? From what you've told me, he doesn't seem like he would be a threat... but I sense brilliance in his play much as I see in yours. Those games you recreated for me... I was impressed by the both of you. I'd go as far as to say you were nearly on the same..."  
  
"He's nothing at all like me!" exclaimed Akira with uncharacteristic force. Sai seemed a little taken aback, responding with only a quiet murmur.  
  
"Well, of course I really don't know Shindou..." Akira wanted to scream. Of course Sai knew Shindou - it was only through a series of accidents and treachery that he had ended up here. Akira desperately wanted to hate Hikaru. It was so much easier than confessing the fact that thoughts of the other boy invaded his mind with terrifying clarity.  
  
Akira's father, of course, knew that there was some like between Sai and Shindou Hikaru. Akira had promised to talk to Shindou about that... it was one of the few times Akira was glad to have a father so out-of-touch with everyday life. It had been frightfully easy to make his father believe that Sai and Shindou had had a sort of falling out. Akira could see the faint outline of his reflection in his teacher's eyes, but he scarcely recognized himself in that shadowy figure.  
  
"Sai-sensei, I'm feeling a bit tired... could we end this game here?" Sai nodded, his youthful face troubled. "I think I'll just go to bed early. Mother said I looked a bit ill." The expression of concern still did not disappear, but Akira decided to let his teacher worry for now. He was halfway to his bedroom when the doorbell rang. Probably some pro coming over to play father, he thought. Sai sometimes played as well, although he would introduce himself as "Murasaki."  
  
As the youngest member of the household, a weary-eyed Akira trudged over to open the door. But instead of an elderly pro or Ogata's familiar face, a short boy with multicolored hair stared back at him. Hikaru looked as if he were trying to say something, but his mouth wouldn't cooperate.  
  
"Akira... I thought maybe we could... uhh, I wanted to ask you something..." Akira found himself unable to speak as well. His heart was pounding in excitement, but also fear, anger and shame. There was nothing he had to say to Hikaru - he feared that if he opened his mouth, the whole terrible truth would come pouring out.  
  
"Um, Hikaru," he finally managed. He couldn't just let Hikaru stand in the doorway... what if...  
  
"Is there a visitor, Akira? Could I play them?" Sai... Whatever feeling it had been that had lifted Akira's heart was now gone, leaving him so empty that he was forced to grip the doorframe tightly just to keep from collapsing. That look on Hikaru's face...  
  
That was the realization of betrayal. Hikaru must have known that there would be no way for Akira to deny knowledge of some previous contact between Sai and Shindou. It was no use making excuses. Akira looked on in morbid apprehension as Hikaru's eyes grew glassy with the beginnings of tears. It had to have been only seconds, but with their gazes linked it felt like a thousand years. Finally Hikaru broke the electrically tense contact, turning to disappear into the twilight. Akira allowed his eyes to close, listening to the sound of Hikaru's pounding footsteps on the pavement grow fainter and fainter.  
  
"Akira...?" began Sai, hesitantly. "That was... Hikaru!" He spoke the other boy's name in a frantic whisper that ended in a harsh choking sound. Akira could almost feel Sai's gaze burning into the back of his head, full of questions that Akira could not answer... Following the imagined lingering sound of Hikaru's footsteps, he began to run.  
  
"Sai! What happened? I heard the doorbell..." Touya Kouyo didn't miss Sai's expression of total shock, and quickly set aside the magazine he had been looking for. "Where's Akira?"  
  
Sai didn't answer. With a softly strangled cry, he too ran off into the rapidly darkening evening.  
  
  
  
Useful Japanese Section!:  
  
Kumogakure - chapter 41 1/2 of Genji, meaning "vanished into the clouds" Shidougo - instructional Go Attach - when you place a stone next to one of its own color, instead of going for an attack. 


	19. Yuugao

I'm sorry, Hikaru... ^^;;;;;; One of these days I will be sued for putting these poor characters (used without permission, hehe) through mental anguish...  
  
Chapter Fifteen - Yuugao - A Face in the Darkness  
  
It had come to the point where he could not run anymore. Hikaru slumped against the bars of the children's climbing frame, breathing heavily. It had to be some kind of playground, perhaps part of a school or public park. He didn't know where he was at all - a combination of darkness and tears clouded his vision so he could only make out the hazy glimmer of the moon opposite the last rays of the sunset. It didn't really matter where he was, though... it wasn't far enough. Stumbling, he tried to coerce his tired legs into running, but he only made it as far as the swing set before practically crumpling into a child's swing.  
  
He had been so stupid. Of course Sai had merely disappeared - that was what happened when a ghost fulfilled his mission, right? Although that idea didn't quite seem to fit, Hikaru had accepted it in the past few months, almost allowing himself to be happy that Sai had found peace. But then... there could be no mistaking someone else for Sai. Seeing him at Akira's house, looking as if he barely recognized Hikaru...  
  
Did Hikaru mean so little that he could simply be forgotten? Of course Sai must have resented him all along... Torajiro had been a much better host. At least Torajiro had allowed Sai to play Go whenever he wished, instead of being selfish and petty. And yet... in two years, Hikaru had thought them to be friends. It wasn't as if he had chosen to have a ghost fused into his mind, but in that short time he had become unable to imagine any other sort of life.  
  
Before, he had been nothing more than a rude elementary school kid who had but one real friend, Akari... and since she was a girl, he wanted nothing to do with her. Sports were okay, but once he left the field, there was nothing between him and his teammates. Hikaru hadn't even realised his own loneliness until he had lost it - when a very possibly psychotic dead guy had set up house in his brain, begging to play an old fart's game until Hikaru wanted to...  
  
Until Hikaru wanted to play. Then it became Hikaru's game, the first thing he had really cared about in twelve years of being a mediocre student and apathetic friend. At some point, Sai's 1000-year-old passion had taken root in him, and grown.  
  
But... how...? Hikaru gripped the chain of the swing set, almost able to breathe normally although he was becoming aware of the sharp pain in his side. Hikaru knew he had been a terrible host for Sai... and yet the rational part of his mind was unable to convince his heart that it was anything less than a betrayal. And what was more... Akira was the one Sai had chosen. His greatest rival... and the person that he felt so strongly for. Furious, Hikaru wiped at the tears that rolled down his cheeks. Abandoned by the people he cared most for in the world... his feelings had already gone past anger and sadness to a sort of empty, hopeless emotion.  
  
"HIKARU!" came a ragged shout. Hikaru looked up, his eyes much clearer. Akira's slim figure resolved against the darkness, his face looking even paler in the early moonlight.  
  
The things Hikaru wanted to say to Akira twisted and jumbled in his mind until he could only manage a choked "Why?"  
  
"Hikaru, I..." Akira's steps were uneven as he drew closer to Hikaru, his feet catching awkwardly on the playground sand. Of course Akira had probably never run so far before. Hikaru could see him gasping as he finally leaned against the swing set frame. "I'm sorry. I..."  
  
"I thought we were friends, or maybe..." Hikaru cursed his own quavering voice. Why couldn't he hate Akira?  
  
"You're not... my rival... Hikaru..." managed Akira, his face half- veiled by clumps of disheveled black hair.  
  
"What?! I'm not good enough to be your rival?!"  
  
"That's... not it..."  
  
"Then what?!" Hikaru stood up, letting the swing shake behind him. He had grown over the summer to the point where he could almost look Akira directly in the eye. "Why are you chasing me, if it's not to fight?" And why, thought Hikaru, did I ever chase you?  
  
"I don't want to fight you!" cried Akira. "I don't want to be your rival anymore!" A few harsh breaths later, he was able to continue. "I only thought of you, Hikaru... always right behind me, and growing closer. No one... has ever been so close to me." Hikaru tasted salt water on his lips, and yet he was not aware of his own tears. At least Akira, with his head lowered and his gaze fixed on the ground, could not see the conflict between the tears and Hikaru's burning eyes, harder than emerald.  
  
"I was afraid of you!" Akira suddenly looked up and met Hikaru's glare. There was fear there... and something else. "From the very first time we played... it was you..."  
  
"THAT WASN'T ME!"  
  
"It was you! When I saw you play for Haze Junior High, I didn't believe it... but once I saw the games you played as a pro... I knew that you, the one who crushed me two years ago in our first game, were close enough to touch me!" Even now, in a dark playground somewhere in Tokyo, they were close enough that a touch was only centimeters away. Akira, holding onto the A-frame of the swings as if everything else threatened to melt away into the darkness; Hikaru, motionless even as everything inside him crumbled to dust.  
  
"I... when I found Sai, I thought only of you, and how weak I must be. I wanted him to excise that weakness from me... but it's still there, Hikaru! I can't fight you! Please... forgive me!" Akira's cool, clammy hand touched Hikaru's cheek hesitantly.  
  
That was more that Hikaru could stand - the touch he had dreamed of, but twisted and horrible coming from the person he loved. His body and mind were no longer connected - were those his hands that shoved Akira into the sand? Akira made no attempt to fight back, or even to stand up.  
  
"You can't fight me?" asked Hikaru, his voice cracking into a soft, pained scream. "You are weak! I'm a pro now, too - if you can't fight me in Go, then you can lose!" To think that Hikaru had been so happy last week when he received the mail notice stating that Touya Akira was his opponent in the first match of an upcoming professional series. Now... even that soured in his mind. Abandoned by those he loved, Hikaru had no choice but to fight his way to the top. a person like Akira could never understand what it was like to be an outsider. Akira could never understand anything.  
  
"Look forward to it," he whispered coldly, stalking away. Soon his steps quickened until he was running, running far away until the tears could run freely down his cheeks, and Akira's shaking body was nothing more than a memory.  
  
Useful Japanese Section!:  
  
Yuugao - Chapter 4 in "Genji", translated in my edition as "The Twilight Beauty." It's made up of the characters for "evening" and "face", so I translated it differently. The same characters are also used to write the plant "moonflower." Moonflower is known for huge, pale blossoms that open at night, but it is also known as datura, a potent poison and hallucinogen. ^^;;; Datura is my favorite flower... and if you know why, then you get a cookie for reading modern Japanese literature. ^^;;; 


	20. Yuugiri

Sorry this one is a little bit late... Calculus final is coming up, so I'm in quite an anxious state. ^^;;  
  
Chapter Sixteen - Yuugiri - Evening Mist  
  
"Sai!?" Touya Kouyo paused for a moment, allowing himself to catch his breath. The doctor had said no physical exertion - a man with a chronic heart condition like himself had no business running through suburban Tokyo in the dark. Still, Kouyo pressed on, albeit more slowly. "Akira?!"  
  
Neither father nor son was inclined towards rash decisions. They were the type to quietly calculate, never making a poor move based on impulse or haste. And now, thought Kouyo, it was a little ironic for them both to be chasing someone through the night. Sai had said "Hikaru"... that was Shindou's name. It didn't take a horrible stretch of the imagination to piece together Akira and Hikaru's feelings, even for a somewhat distant father like Touya Kouyo.  
  
Sai was another issue. What had that kiss meant? It had been so sudden - both of them seemed to have come to an unspoken agreement to keep whatever transpired between them a secret from Akira, but questions still ricocheted in Kouyo's mind. It was foolish to believe oneself in love with someone when one could measure time together in days, and when one knew nothing of his lover's past. That kiss... had been a test, to see what the next move would be.  
  
The enigmatic Go master could be anywhere - rows of neat suburban homes and small shops gave an uneven backdrop that made it difficult to pick out anything in the darkness. Kouyo sighed. Akira was young, and his rushing off was unusual, but his son was changing. Akira would be able to find his way home. Sai... Sai disturbed him. There was an otherworldly air to the man, as if unchecked, he might disappear into the evening mist.  
  
Akira's old elementary school was across the quiet street, reminding Kouyo of a time when his son was simpler and easier to understand. He crossed the road and went into the grass colored black by darkness, balling the fabric of his somewhat impractical hakama into his hands to keep them from getting wet by the night's condensation. The sun had finally disappeared from the horizon, leaving a ruddy smear of burnt orange and a rapidly brightening moon.  
  
At first he thought it to be a trick of the darkness, something conjured up by moonlight and fatigue. But as he drew closer, the pale blotch against black grass resolved itself into a yukata-clad figure, laying face down with its arms splayed out as to suggest a fallen bird.  
  
"Sai!" hissed Kouyo, forgetting the dew and his heart to rush to the other man's side. As Kouyo gently touched his face, Sai's eyelids fluttered. Touya Kouyo was relieved, even though Sai's skin was alarmingly cold.  
  
"Have you seen Hikaru? I can't find him anywhere..." mumbled Sai through bluish lips. His eyes seemed unfocused; each a little reflection of the waning moon. Kouyo eased him upright until both were sitting in the grass.  
  
"Sai, are you alright? What happened?"  
  
"My head hurts." His round, androgynous face winced as he used one hand to brush strands of hair from his eyes. "Where's Hikaru? Hikaru...?"  
  
"Shindou-kun? So you do know him, after all."  
  
"Of course I know him! I spent two years living with... or did I? It's almost like a dream..." Sai clutched at his temple, making a soft cry. "But it keeps growing stronger - only everything is out of order, and..."  
  
"It's okay." He tried to sound comforting, but had the feeling that his words barely reached the young man's ears. Kouyo gathered Sai's body into his arms until he stopped shaking. "Do you remember your name? Perhaps we can find someone else who knows you, who can fill in the gaps."  
  
"Sai is my name," stated the young man, as if that were perfectly obvious. Kouyo had thought "Sai" to be only an alias, but he supposed it could be a real name. "Fujiwara... no... Sai." Kouyo's arms around Sai grew a little tighter. Fujiwara... no...? What a strange name... it was like something one saw in a history book. The Fujiwara family had lost power hundred of years ago, though, and the remaining descendants carried an empty name.  
  
"Fujiwara? I don't know where we would find your family..."  
  
"It's alright." Sai's voice was weak, but very oddly pitched. "They all must have died a long time ago. Yes, it has been a long time since I lived in the old capital. On nights like this we would let paper lanterns flow down the river." A wistful smile crossed his face, but only for a moment. Suddenly, Sai's body went stiff and he began to claw at Kouyo's embrace, his eyes wild. "No!" One hand broke free and grabbed at the older man's collar in desperation. Sai's breathing was ragged as if the thick night air itself was choking him. "No! I don't want to... I don't want to die! I still haven't... the Hand of God... Just let me... Please!" With a great shudder, Sai went limp in Touya Kouyo's arms, slowly collapsing against the other man's chest. A period of time that seemed infinitely long passed, in which Kouyo's mind failed to connect these disparate snapshots of whatever Sai's past had been.  
  
"It's strange to be able to touch you like this, Touya-sensei... Kouyo," came a faltering voice. "It's like I'll pass right through you." Sai's thin fingers traveled aimlessly over Kouyo's lips, while his own face was buried in the older man's neck. "But... this feels so real... but if I was able to sleep for a thousand years; then maybe this is nothing more than a dream."  
  
"What... are you saying, Sai?" Sai's words didn't make any sense. To hear the young man speak of thousand-year spans of time was disconcerting, to say the least... but when he helped Sai to sit up on his own, he caught a glimpse of the other man's eyes. Beyond the glittering midnight-blue was something old, intense and overwhelming. Kouyo looked away, wondering if he should believe in tricks of the moonlight.  
  
"I've done something terrible in forgetting my past. I didn't know it, but I... I must have abandoned him! Hikaru..." His body seemed to cave in weakly, shoulders trembling with barely audible sobs. Kouyo wished feverently that there was some way to stop the other man's tears, but he could not find the words. Sai's whispered "Forgive me" blared in his ears and strangled other thoughts.  
  
"You were Shindou's teacher?" he asked, finally. Sai looked at him with those sad, ancient eyes and whispered soft words.  
  
"I was a part of him. When you thought you were playing Hikaru, that was me. I was jealous of him, a little..." The long haired man smiled slightly, lowering his gaze. "You only saw Hikaru, while I longed to be the one sitting opposite you. My terrible selfishness..."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"You've studied Shuusaku, I'm sure. That was me, too."  
  
"That's impossible. Shuusaku died over one hundred years ago." Sai's face was expressionless, those cool eyes burning in Touya Kouyo's mind even after he looked away. The former Meijin was not a superstitious man. For him, there was only the world that could be reduced to black and white. Yet the feeling of Sai's fingers curling against his sent a peculiar tingle through his body, as if the two of them had both slipped into some ghostly otherworld. "A hundred years, Sai...?"  
  
"A thousand." Quietly, Kouyo stood up, pulling Sai with him. They were almost face-to-face, yet Kouyo could not bear to look into those tragic eyes again.  
  
"It's late. We should go home to wait for Akira." Kouyo felt Sai's nod of agreement as a soft brush of hair against his face. Quietly, they began the walk home, holding onto one another as if fearing that the night air and the ethereal light would somehow tear them apart.  
  
  
  
Useful Japanese Section:  
  
Yuugiri - Chapter 39 of "Genji", meaning night mist. Hakama - Kouyo's pants/skirt thing. Yukata - A simple light kimono; traditional warm-weather wear and house clothing. 


	21. Nowaki

Ahh, does anyone know a place around Washington DC where I can get Shounen Jump?! Mouuu, it's becoming so interesting, but I can't read Chinese scanlations and it's hard to get in Japanese, so I get behind... I wonder if Hotta-sensei will really bring Sai back...? Anyway, I'm about at the point where I'm really going to have to diverge more from the manga - because if I try to follow it too closely, I'll be contradicting myself... So, rather than deal with that uncertainty... I know that Hikaru doesn't play Akira until after winning those 8 matches after he comes back, but since I think opponents are drawn randomly, I'm going to have Akira be his first opponent!  
  
On another note, I've finally seen dear Isumi animated~ *heart* I didn't think I would like the anime as much as the manga, but it's really fun! It's colorful! Akira's hair is green! Kouyo has a sexy voice... *hits self*  
  
  
  
Chapter Seventeen - Nowaki - Storm  
  
"Hikaru! Wait up!" Waya squinted against the morning sunlight that glinted on passing cars. At least, he thought it was Hikaru... not many people did crazy things like that to their hair. But Hikaru acted as if he hadn't even heard Waya - and Waya had been chasing him for about two blocks, now. They were almost at the station. Hikaru's two-tone hair ruffled in the breeze from traffic as he crossed the pedestrian bridge that ran over the busy street.  
  
"Hikaru!" Finally, Hikaru seemed to notice him. Waya ran out across the bridge, meeting Hikaru in the middle.  
  
"Waya. What are you doing here?" Hikaru's voice was detached, and his eyes seemed to be staring off someplace else. No wonder he hadn't heard Waya's shouting.  
  
"Well, since we both have a game today, I thought we could ride the subway together. I haven't seen you in ages." Actually, it had been a little less than two weeks, but it felt longer. Hikaru seemed... older.  
  
"I know how to ride the subway by myself." Hikaru turned quickly and began to stalk off. A few paces later, he slowed and spoke quietly. "But if we're both going..." Waya nodded, frowning. What was wrong with Hikaru? So the younger boy had always been a bit rude, calling the Go masters 'old men' and never bowing at the right times, but this... Hikaru was cooler than Touya Akira.  
  
Isumi had smiled the night before, when the two of them had poured over the latest issue of Go Weekly. Soon, Isumi would take the Pro exam, and he was trying to be as prepared as possible. Waya thought that no amount of preparation was as valuable as the change he had seen in Isumi's confidence. But still, Isumi read Go magazines as if some magic secret was hidden in their pages. There had been a short interview with Touya Akira, conducted a few weeks before, that had brought a gentle smile to Isumi's face. When Waya asked, Isumi had only said that it was something for Hikaru to tell.  
  
Waya might have dropped out of school, but he was smart enough to figure that out. Hikaru had been angsting over Touya Akira for ages. But now, the look on Hikaru's face... something must have gone terribly wrong.  
  
"Um, Hikaru..." began Waya, shoving his hands in the pockets of his camouflage jacket. "Isumi said... I mean... never mind. So you're playing Touya Akira today, right?" Hikaru whirled to face Waya with such speed that the older boy was taken aback.  
  
"I'll crush him!" whispered Hikaru. Those green eyes were filled with determination, but the morning light reflected off them strangely - filled with tears, as well. Waya regretted even mentioning Touya's name.  
  
"Umm... yeah, well... I've got a game against Yamahana Atsushi... he's only 18, but he's really good. But you know, us guys in the lower dan levels never make it out of the second round, if that far. These are O- teai matches; we've still got years to go before we can beat the top players. But the Hokuto Cup is pretty soon and all, and that's an international match for young guys..." Waya realised that Hikaru was barely listening to a word he said.  
  
"Akira could make it." Waya could only see the back of Hikaru's head, but his fists were clenched tightly as his sides. When Hikaru slid his commuter pass through the subway machine, the paperboard card bend under the stress of his grasp. "And I don't ever want to be chasing him again. I have to win."  
  
Damn, whatever had happened with Akira, it had been bad... Waya looked dejectedly out the subway window as it travelled through the darkness. Had Akira turned him down? Waya didn't think so. Hikaru wasn't the sort to let rejection tear him apart. He was a fighter, and would never give up. But the Hikaru sitting next to him only stared at the floor, letting bleached fringe fall over his eyes so Waya couldn't read his expression.  
  
Staring out into the blurred emptiness between stations, Waya let his mind wander to more pleasant thoughts. In the back of the magazine shop, yesterday, Isumi had kissed him so lightly that Waya hadn't even been sure it was a kiss. But then looking over at Isumi covering his reddened face behind a newspaper, Waya had to grin. Isumi's shy, hesitant ways of showing his true feelings were a total contrast to Waya's usual openness, but those stolen kisses were sweeter than anything. It was silly to say that they "fit well together", because really, there were no rules that governed what kind of people could fall in love.  
  
Soon, Isumi would also be a pro. This time, Waya felt sure of it. After his defeat last year, Waya had feared that Isumi would lose everything. But now, Isumi's lack of confidence had turned to determination, and nothing would hold him back.  
  
Nothing at all would keep Isumi from winning. Waya breath had fogged the window, obscuring his view. The train slowed to a stop at their station.  
  
What would happen when Isumi was also a pro? Was competition all that stood between Akira and Hikaru? As they left the station, Hikaru was strangely silent. Usually he ran up the stairs; today his body seemed too weary to make it to the next step. Today, Hikaru would face Akira. How long before Waya faced Isumi, and what kind of fight would it be?  
  
The white Japan Go building loomed in his view once they reached street level, a silent threat. 'Isumi, I...' he thought. Could he win against Isumi? They were both strong players... the real question was, could he play against Isumi?  
  
'Isumi, I... I can't do it!' Of course, no one could hear Waya's mental confession. How could he go against the person he loved? 'Isumi... we can't do this.' Pushing through the doors of the Go Institute, Waya's thoughts were interrupted by a man carrying a clipboard.  
  
"Waya Yoshitaka-kun?" Ah, no one besides his mother called him "Yoshitaka." The man with the clipboard continued. "You're almost late - Yamahana-kun is in the playing room already." Now the man frowned, looking at Hikaru. "Shindou-kun? The games begin soon, and your opponent has not yet checked in."  
  
"Touya's not here?!" There was desperation in Hikaru's voice. The man shook his head.  
  
"Not yet, at least. Usually he's very punctual. Perhaps his father is ill again. I thought I should tell you, since if he does not appear, you get a forfeit win."  
  
"I don't want a forfeit wi..." Hikaru was cut off by a woman's voice calling his name.  
  
"Shindou-kun!" Hikaru and Waya both turned to see a girl, maybe college age, who looked out of breath from running.  
  
"You know her?" Hikaru's brow furrowed.  
  
"She... she works at the Go salon where I first played... that guy." Akira, obviously.  
  
"Shindou-kun, please wait!" He shoes made clicking noises as she rushed over to the two boys. "Maybe it would have been better to call!" She smoothed her light-colored hair before bowing to the older man. "I'm sorry, but Akira-kun won't be coming today." Hikaru's reaction was predictable, and the man with the clipboard nearly dropped his pen. Waya just frowned. "He hasn't been at the Go salon all week, so I called his home to make sure he wasn't ill! He... he's fine..." She trailed off, biting her lower lip.  
  
"Where is he?!" blurted Hikaru.  
  
"He... Shindou-kun, I don't know why, but... Akira-kun doesn't want to play." This shocked even Waya.  
  
"But Touya Akira is..." Waya was pale, and the hands in the pockets of his jacket had formed tight fists. He feared this year's pro exams more than he had feared his own. Soon, Isumi... Waya almost missed the girl's next quiet words.  
  
"Akira-kun doesn't want to play Go anymore."  
  
  
  
Useful Japanese Section!  
  
Nowaki - Chapter 28 of "Genji", translated as "Typhoon" in my edition. But a typhoon is a sea storm, and a nowaki is actually a late-autumn windstorm that foreshadows winter's harshness. O-teai - Pro matches Hokuto Cup - Is this real, or did Hotta-sensei make it up? It's a China- Japan-Korea tournament for young pros that works like a team match. 


	22. For Waya

For Waya...  
  
Is it forever  
That he hopes our love will last?  
He did not answer.  
And now my daylight thougts  
Are as tangled as my dark hair.  
  
Lady Horikawa 


	23. Yomogiu

Whew, finals are over but my brain is fried... While writing this, my CD player somehow looped the same song for two hours... and I didn't even notice. (Oh well, Plastic Tree's "Nukegara" sort of fits this story.) But now it's winter break, and I have time to write a little! So, here's a fluffy/angsty chapter with an actual female character in it. ^^;;  
  
  
  
Chapter Eighteen - Yomogiu - Wasteland  
  
Akira gently placed the telephone back in its handset, its dull plasticky rattle seeming too loud in the quiet kitchen. Was every word that spilled from his lips a betrayal? It didn't even feel like his voice - somehow, over the past two years, he had changed. Go was the only thing he could trust - and yet with Go came Hikaru, and the wash of contradictory feelings that undermined everything he knew.  
  
Shoulders hunched, he began to clear the remains of his cousins' breakfast. Since it was a Saturday, they still had school - Akira was so accustomed to skipping the half day of weekend class to go to a tournament that it hadn't even occurred to him to go to school. Sighing, he poured a bowl of cereal pieces grotesquely distorted by milk into the trash can. His aunt and uncle left early for work, as did his mother, so he was alone. After the unofficial separation, Akira's mother had moved back in with her family. It wasn't really that far from his father's house, and his cousins weren't much younger, but Akira couldn't feel at home there. The refrigerator was decorated with childish drawings and A+ kanji tests bearing only his cousins' names. Akira was only that strange, silent boy who passed through on weekends and holidays, or whenever his mother had custody.  
  
There was nothing to prove that he existed, except for a Go tournament schedule and a few magazine clippings pinned to the bulletin board. Remove those, and Touya Akira could easily have faded into the chill morning air.  
  
He had wanted to disappear into the rough playground sand as he watched Hikaru walk away that night. Instead, only his tears had been able to melt into the earth. Ignoring the pain in his side from having run too far, and the greater pain in his heart, he had made his way home. That night... perhaps he hadn't slept at all. Everything had been like a waking dream: dulled vision, emotion hypersensitive. Even so, he had noticed the subtle way in which Sai seemed to linger near his father, who normally refused any fuss over his health. Even more apparent was the peculiar, questioning look in his father's eyes when they rested on Sai's delicate profile for longer than was truly necessary. Sai had been unusually quiet that night, rubbing his temples as if in pain; but Akira's father simply gazed at him as if something both terrible and wonderful was concealed in that face.  
  
He hadn't been able to go back. It was his mother's week, anyway, something that came as a relief for once. He hadn't even spoken to his father since then... always picking up the phone to listen for that familiar voice, then laying it on the countertop until the soft yet insistent beep of an empty dial tone was all he could hear.  
  
The dishes were done, and Akira's feeling of uselessness returned even stronger than before. Loneliness had never gone. For the past two years, before he had even realised his true feelings for Hikaru, the other boy's shadow had been ever at his back. Since that first crushing defeat, he had imagined Hikaru to be so close that he might touch Akira, so close that Akira could almost feel the warmth of his breath. It had been frightening... frightening because no one had ever been so close to him. And yet he longed for closeness in a world that suddenly seemed cold.  
  
He had become so engrossed in staring out the kitchen window that he didn't hear the soft footsteps approaching. When he heard his name spoken, it was a voice coming from far away.  
  
"Akira?" Finally, his own name registered in his mind and he whirled around to face the speaker.  
  
"M...Mother." She was wearing a simple day dress, and her hair was very plain.  
  
"It's Saturday... don't you have a game? If you forgot your commuter pass, I can drive you there - I'm off work today. Just because your silly mother doesn't know the game very well doesn't mean that she doesn't like to watch you play..."  
  
"It's okay." She looked momentarily hurt. The expression crossed her face for only a second, but it reminded Akira of something else. Hikaru's face had looked the same way, when he finally realised Akira's betrayal. That night in the moonlight... under Hikaru's fierce hatred had been only pain.  
  
"Oh... well, I certainly wouldn't want to distract you!" His mother laughed - Akira wondered if there was something else under her smiles, too. Something that he had caused... "Oh, and I spoke to your father last night..." She frowned slightly. "Did you have an argument? I shouldn't ask now, though. You have a game to get to."  
  
"No... I..." Akira tried to will the tears from his eyes, but they refused his pleas. "I... I did something terrible." He leaned back against the refrigerator, knocking a few school papers from their magnets so they scattered over the floor like falling leaves. Neither of them moved to collect them. A palpable silence filled the air, stifling Akira's voice. It took him a moment to speak. "I... I'm not going to play Go today, and maybe not ever, but that's not... that's not even important."  
  
"Akira..." His mother's eyes were full of concern. "Akira, what happened? No matter what a person does, as long as they have a good heart, it can be made right..."  
  
"I'm too selfish; I don't even know what to say to him!" exclaimed Akira.  
  
"Who is he?" Akira's head was low; he didn't want to meet her eyes. He could tell by her silence that she already knew. "His name is Hikaru, right?" she asked carefully.  
  
"You wouldn't know him."  
  
"Do you think that I don't know anything?" Her face was stern as Akira looked back up at her. "I don't know anything about Go... but I do know my son. Your father says that you are changing, Akira - I don't believe it. That makes it sound as if you're not my child anymore. You've always been serious and shy, but kind as well! I don't believe that you would have hurt this boy if you had realised any of this would happen. And don't let me see you cry, I'll be embarrassed." She handed him a kitchen towel to dry his tears, smiling.  
  
"It's useless, anyway. He hates me, now."  
  
"Shindou Hikaru... yes, that boy." At Akira's startled expression, she laughed softly. "One of your teachers - the one who runs the Go club - mentioned that you joined only to fight one boy from Haze Junior High. I didn't make much of it until I saw the boy's name in one of your Go magazines. He's been chasing you, Akira."  
  
"We are... were... rivals."  
  
"Akira..." she began, still with the hint of a smile at her mouth, "I know that you've chosen a difficult path in life, but Hikaru has done the same so that he might be closer to you. That's not something one does out of hatred. And I'm certain that your feelings are something quite different."  
  
"What... I don't..." Akira didn't know what to say. It wasn't as if he could say to his mother: "I love him." He hadn't been able to speak those words to anyone. Just the thought of them echoing in his head was exciting and frightening. And yet... it seemed like his mother already knew.  
  
"Let me tell you a story," she said, plucking her car keys from the hook on the wall. "When I was fifteen, just a little older than you are, I met a boy; a senpai. He was always so intense and serious - just like you - that I couldn't help but wonder what he might look like if he smiled. I used to tease him all the time." Following her out the door, Akira knew exactly where she planned to take him... and yet, the idea of seeing Hikaru was overpowering.  
  
"Some people know right away that they've fallen in love, and it's all beautiful and perfect like a movie. But it took me a long time to realize that when I teased him, I was actually trying to confess that I was in love." By now, they had reached his mother's small car. However, the story didn't feel finished yet.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"Well... we got married."  
  
"Father." She nodded.  
  
"Things don't always work out the way you might have liked, but... I can honestly say that I am happy, now. It's not the life I thought I would have, but I have a wonderful son who always makes me proud. No matter what happens with Hikaru... if there are people who are important to you, you'll be happy."  
  
"I want to play," mumbled Akira. "I want to see Hikaru again."  
  
  
  
Useful Japanese Section!  
  
Yomogiu - chapter 15 of "Genji", translated in my edition as "A Waste of Weeds." senpai (or sempai) - an older, more experienced friend. 


	24. Kiritsubo

Hey, I'm sure you've noticed how long this fic has been on hiatus... err, forgive me. There are several reasons, mostly that I have been busy busy busy. ^^ Just be glad I'm not like J.K. Rowling with several years between installments. ^^;;;  
  
Chapter Nineteen - Kiritsubo - The Pawlonia Pavillion  
  
"Akira... doesn't want to play Go?" Hikaru's voice was hollow. It wasn't that Akira didn't want to play Go... Akira didn't want to play with him. Anger surged through Hikaru's veins to wash away the deep sadness that threatened to reduce him to tears right in the middle of a major competition.  
  
"Uhh... I guess it's a default win, then..." began the girl from the Go salon, a little hesitantly. Most people would be relieved to receive any kind of win against Touya Akira, the most frighteningly intense player of his age that the Go world had seen in decades. Hikaru, though, would never take such an easy victory. He wanted to attack that serene, dark-haired boy on a field of black and white, where defeat would hurt so much more than if Hikaru simply hit him.  
  
"No!" growled Hikaru softly, turning around to look towards the tournament room. Through the narrow doorway he could see the older competitors shuffling through their stones and adjusting their floor cushions. The matches would start soon, without him. The Go salon girl shuffled away uncertainly. Waya, too, apologized quickly and ran off to join his opponent.  
  
How could Akira quit Go? It was the thing he cared about most in the world... Ever since his fight with the other boy, Hikaru had done nothing but study back issues of Go Weekly. He had researched the innovative new defenses of the Chinese and Korean masters and unorthodox American techniques, all for his single-minded goal of beating Touya Akira. Only then would he hurt Akira as deeply as Akira had hurt him.  
  
It still ached inside... the pain had grown less sharp with time, but that dull feeling consumed his thoughts. Akira wouldn't know anything about that kind of pain. All Akira cared about was being the best at something that in the end was nothing more than a game.  
  
Hikaru couldn't stop loving Akira. That was why it still hurt. For over two years, Akira had been a silent force propelling him higher and higher, even though Hikaru had always imagined himself in Akira's shadow. In a way, both Akira and Sai had lived inside him... now that both were gone; he was just Shindou Hikaru again.  
  
"I guess I should go..." he sighed, defeated. There was no one there to hear him. He could hear the polite murmurs as other competitors determined who would make the first move. With his head down, he walked towards the doors.   
  
"No! Hikaru, don't go!" Hikaru looked up in shock. On the other side of the glass doors, a distraught-looking Akira stared at him with wide, almost fearful eyes. His normally straight black hair fell in tangles around his face. Behind him, a small woman clutched her purse as she tried to run in dress shoes.  
  
Hikaru's gaze, however, was locked with the eyes of the other boy. Pressed up against the doors, their breath fogged the glass. Time stopped.  
  
"H...Hikaru."  
  
"Akira." Hikaru fumbled for the handle to open the door.  
  
"The match.... It's already starting!" whispered Akira in alarm. He looked at Hikaru again, his expression a little guarded. "Do you... want to play? It's my fault I was so late... you can take the win if you want to." Akira lowered his head so dark hair obscured his face.  
  
Part of Hikaru wanted to shove past Akira and run, not stopping until the rhythm of his feet drowned out his thoughts. The other half simply wanted to hold Akira tightly and never let go. His body acted awkwardly without any signal from his mind and touched Akira's hand gently. The other boy jumped slightly, but did not recoil. Slowly his fingers curled around Hikaru's.  
  
"I want to play." Akira's hands were cool, but his face was slightly pink. His eyes were rimmed in red - had he been crying? It was strange to think of the icy, implacable Touya Akira as a person who could cry.   
  
They ran to the tournament room, reluctantly unclasping their hands to fit through the doorway. Every head in the room turned to regard the two latecomers with a hint of irritation. Hikaru shuffled into a chair at one of the last empty tables to face Akira. Akira was so quiet and motionless - normally, with him being the higher-ranked player, he would have already done "nigiri" to determine who would go first, but instead he stared blankly at the board.  
  
"Nigiri," said Hikaru, grabbing a handful of stones. If he didn't do something, he would go insane. He hoped his voice didn't quaver too much. The familiar act of deciding who would go first helped to settle his mind a little, but the feeling in the pit of his stomach was exactly like waiting at the top of the most wicked roller coaster in the amusement park. Part excitement, part apprehension... but most of all, wishing that the waiting would end.   
  
"Even," muttered Akira, sliding two stones onto the empty board. Hikaru counted the white stones in his hand, willing himself not to shake.  
  
"Seven. I'll go first." As they switched bowls of stones, Akira looked up from his study of the board's woodgrain and met Hikaru's eyes. Hikaru could see the same fear and hope reflected back at him in that deep blue gaze.  
  
How was he going to keep his mind on the game?! He placed his first stone in the beginnings of an unconventional opening that he had once seen a Korean player use. The shaking disappeared from his hands as he shifted his concentration to the board. The soft click of carefully carved and polished clamshell on aged wood resonated in his mind. He could hear Akira's breathing slow, and imagined his soft face growing serene as a statue of Buddha.   
  
They played quickly, as always, speeding ahead of the older players and filling their board with stones. Akira's defense was slightly weak in the lower left corner, but his offense on the other side of the board was slowly eating at Hikaru's territory... it was rare for Hikaru not to be able to see who was the winner, or even who was ahead in this game. It would be close. Every half-moku would count...  
  
This was what it was about, really... that feverish excitement that overtook his heart and that deep calm of being with a special person... The simple language of black and white points spread over a field of thin engraved lines provided an inscrutable connection between Akira and himself. No one else could understand how both his love for the game and his nascent love for Akira could grow into an all-consuming passion...  
  
Sai would have understood.   
  
Hikaru winced slightly as he placed a stone in the place just next to where he had wanted to put it. Akira looked at him in confusion - it was rare for Hikaru to make such an amateurish mistake.   
  
"Hikaru... do you want to move that stone?" Hikaru gaped. Akira would break the rules of the game... for him?  
  
"N...no... I got a little distracted. It was my mistake." Akira frowned slightly, but made the predictable move and claimed territory for himself. Hikaru would have to fight, now... even though in his heart he didn't want to beat Akira, he knew Akira wanted to face the real Hikaru's strength.  
  
Sai had told him something like that... before he had gone. Why had he left like that, without even a goodbye? Maybe he had been trying to say goodbye for a long time, but Hikaru had taken his ghostly presence for granted. He had stopped letting Sai play go for him... he didn't watch every one of Touya Kouyo's matches on TV... he was always too tired even to play a game before bed with his teacher. Sai... must have been so lonely.  
  
Hikaru hadn't spoken to Akira in a few days, and loneliness had made him bitter and listless. Sai had been alone for the better part of a millennium, and still smiled so cheerfully... Hikaru bit his lip resolutely. Now that Sai was back, he deserved to finish the life he had ended a thousand years ago.   
  
"Ne, Hikaru..." Akira whispered.  
  
"Huh?" He dropped the stone in his hand and let it fall to the floor.  
  
"There's nowhere left to move..." He smiled slightly. "For being that distracted, you played well..  
  
"I guess we should count our stones... we're the only ones finished." The reporters were all huddled around the slower games of the higer-dan players, largely ignoring the two students. He reached out to start moving his stones into orderly areas for easier counting. Akira's fingers brushed his as they reached for the same stones, and they gasped.  
  
"Thank you," whispered Akira.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For giving me another chance... and for being Hikaru."  
  
  
  
Useful Japanese Section!  
  
Title - Kiritsubo - translates to "pawlonia tree pavillion." Pawlonia trees are some sort of imperial tree... I thought it fit with all of those Go players around. ^^  
  
Nigiri - Literally "squeeze." The method for deciding who goes first. 


	25. Wakana Jou to be continued

After several months of non-activity, here's a new chapter... laugh I'm not promising anything. I'd like to try to finish this, but it's hard to come up with an ending that satsifies me. But anything is better than the way the manga ended...  
  
Chapter Twenty - Wakana Jou - New Growth  
  
"Those long haired punks ought to watch where they're going 


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